Unlikely Allies
by Takada Saiko
Summary: When Tom comes across some information about Tommy Markin and gives it to Ressler, he never expected that he'd end up in Detroit chasing down the man that killed the agent's father. Tessler. Bromance. Co-written with SaraBeth1
1. Part One

**Part One**

He had weighed his options for as long as he felt like he could, and he still wasn't sure what would be considered the _right_ thing to do. That was what he was trying to do these days, but that didn't mean that it came easily for him. After things had settled out again - the wedding that hadn't been quite what they'd planned, the baby, and everything else that had snowballed into the chaos that seemed to simply be their lives these days - Cooper had reached out to him with a proposal to hire him on here and there for various pieces of information gathering. It kept him busy, brought in honest money, but still allowed him to avoid getting shot at, which was always a plus. It usually worked out very well, but this particular assignment had led to an uncomfortable bit of information.

Tommy Markin was a name that Jacob wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for a story that Donald Ressler never would have told him if the FBI agent hadn't thought they were facing death. Apparently he was a politician these days, climbing the local ranks in Detroit and looking to climb even higher than that. His connection to the weapons' trafficker that the task force was looking into would have been nearly non-existent without the the knowledge from Ressler. Jacob hadn't even been sure it was the same man when his contact had let the name slip, but he had dug into it and now he had no question. His connection to the arms dealers wouldn't make or break the FBI's case - in fact, they wouldn't give Markin a second glance - but it would mean something to a certain irritating Boy Scout that Jacob Phelps now found himself standing outside the apartment door of, not certain if he should bothering knocking or not. The file in his hand was thin and he had a copy that he had already sent over to Cooper to finish up this particular job for them. Ressler probably wouldn't even see it, much less know, if Jacob simply dropped it, and that might be better after everything. Handing a man who had lost his father a brittle thread like this one was seemed less and less like a good thing and more like a slap in the face the longer he thought on it. It wasn't like he'd be able to do anything with it anyway.

That finally decided, Jacob turned to leave and nearly ran into the FBI agent he had spent the last several hours arguing with himself over as he rounded the corner towards the exit of the building. He paused, his expression shifting at lightning speed from confusion, recognition, and then masking over entirely with that somewhat lazy smirk of his. "Ressler. I thought I'd just missed you. I sent over the information that Cooper had me looking into, but wasn't sure it go to you when I didn't hear back." He really was a better liar than that, he reminded himself. Apparently working with the FBI regularly was knocking him off his game.

"So you made a special trip to my place to bring it to me?" Ressler eyed him suspiciously before nodding to the file in his hand. "That for me then?"

Jacob immediately pulled it back out of the other man's reach. "I was just in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop by and see if you got what I sent through. Never know with encrypted information being sent through." It was seriously the most absurd excuse he'd ever come up and finally he sighed, rolling his eyes at himself. "I'm losing my touch. I really am. I blame the fact that I'm stuck around people like you these days."

"Yeah, it's all my fault you can't come up with a better lie." Ressler sighed then continued. "Look, if you have something you want to show me or discuss can we do it upstairs? I had a crappy day and there's a beer and change of clothes waiting for me."

Jacob sighed. Well, he'd tried. He would just give the file to Ressler and be on his way, washing his hands clean of the whole fiasco. This is what he got for trying to do something nice for someone. It was usually better to leave that to anyone but him. He opened his mouth to tell Ressler to just take the file, but the other man was already brushing past him, making beeline for the stairs and starting up towards the apartment that Jacob had just left. With a huff the younger man followed, fingers tightening around the thin file in his hand as they moved up the stairs, around the corner, and he watched Ressler pull a key out for the door to open it. He left it open behind him for Jacob to follow in, which he did, and set his jaw. He just needed to get this over with so he could go home. "Listen, this is… I thought you'd want to see this after what you said about your dad out at the cabin with Karakurt," he said in a rush.

Ressler took the file out of his hands and headed to the couch. He slowly opened it without a word and looked over the document. He covered his mouth with his hand at one point before setting the file down and looking over at Jacob. "How did you get this? Who all knows?" He didn't wait for Jacob to answer but stormed away and disappeared to another room. Jacob wasn't sure if he should follow or not but when Ressler's muffled voice came from the other room he headed that way. "I've been waiting for something. Anything to connect the dots." Ressler was digging through a box in what looked like an office. "What you found…," Ressler paused then looked up at Jacob. He straightened, as if realizing he was allowing Jacob in to this world of his. "And you don't care. Thank you for the file," he said as if he was dismissing the younger man.

Jacob's dark blue gaze moved over the box that Ressler had been looking through, recognizing what was probably a very detailed collection of information that must have taken _years_ to gather. He wasn't sure how long the fed had been looking into his father's murder, but he would wager it had started pretty early in life, and that he was a lot deeper into it than he cared for anyone around him to know. The former operative swallowed, his throat feeling a little dry, and he forced himself to look at Ressler. "The information that was part of the case Cooper had me looking into was in the file I gave to him, but, uh, I didn't mention that to anyone else. Not my secret to tell." He should turn and leave. He had a family to go home to and a nice, quiet life that he'd worked so damn hard for, but something kept his boots rooted to Ressler's wooden floors. "I gotta ask… you've got a load of information there, and you're… okay at your job -" he smirked a little at the intentional swipe, but moved immediately past it- "so why haven't you brought this guy in yet? Looked like to me, from what I saw, that he's only had it easy since he murdered your old man."

"I'm gonna ignore that jab." Ressler rolled his eyes. "Tommy Markin is untouchable. Yeah, he's had it easy since he had that piece of crap dealer kill my dad. That was a message to anyone who even thought about going against him. You are either with him or you're six feet under. No one will go after him unless there is an airtight case." He kicked a box that was on the floor. "I've collected all this. And still that smug son of a bitch walks. He dictates policy in Detroit. His level of corruption is higher than I ever thought. I need more to take him and everyone who protected him down." Ressler took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jacob. "There are days where I think just ending him would be better."

"Yeah, well, I'll tell you from experience that leaving a trail of bodies behind you catches up eventually," Jacob grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair and it stood on end. "And you're not that type anyway. You've got too much of a conscious. It'd put you in so deep you'd never get out."

"Hasn't caught up to Markin yet. Seems to be working for him pretty well actually." Ressler moved past Jacob and headed to the fridge. He pulled two beers out and handed one to Jacob. "I don't expect you to understand. He had my father executed. I watched my mother crumble to the ground when his Lieutenant came to give her the news. I look at that flag every day," he said with force as he pointed to the folded flag on his shelf, "and I think how is it fair he's breathing and my dad is dead." Ressler took a sip. "Liz...she'd have field day if she knew I was telling you anything personal." Then his eyes grew wide. "Liz doesn't know right?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, I figured that was between you and her. Like I said, not my secret to tell. I may get an earful for it later, but… it'll be you she's mad at." He offered a quirked smile and popped the top off of his own beer. "It sucks, what he did. Guess it's good you caught me before I left. You can add it to your pile in there." He took a long drink from his bottle. "I can't say I know from my own family or anything, but I remember when Liz's dad was killed. I still haven't forgiven that, so I guess it must be pretty intense if it's someone who raised you."

"It was," he mumbled. "And Tommy was like family, or pretended to be. That makes the betrayal a hundred times worse." Ressler closed his eyes and when he opened them Jacob saw a fire in them he had never seen before. "And that file isn't going in any box. I'm on a flight to Detroit."

"Detroit?" Jacob managed. "You're going to… what? Go arrest him? You just said he was untouchable. I know what was in the file. No matter what you've got, there can't be enough in there for that to be your key piece to put him away." He really did not like the idea of making it a habit talking Donald Ressler out of murdering people. If anything, it should have been the other way around. He wasn't comfortable _ever_ being someone's conscious or reminding them that they had one.

"No, it's not enough to put him away. But, it might be enough to get some people to talk. I know someone...he's hiding something. He knows something. This may get him to talk." Ressler looked hesitant before he continued. "I'm going to take a leave and go do some chatting in Detroit. Can I trust you to keep this between us?"

Jacob frowned. "Liz is going to know something's up. The woman's got a sixth sense for that with me these days, and.." And when it came to Ressler, she would be relentless. He sighed. "Listen, I know it's none of my business, but you know you're too close to this, right? You going off after this on your own is stupid and if this guy has half as many connections as you seem to think he does, you'll be lucky if you make it back to DC."

"Yeah, she'll be curious but I'd rather that than have her worry about me. And she will. She has the baby to worry about." He took a big swig of his beer and didn't speak for a moment or so. "And, I am too close to this, you're right. But, if I don't do this no one will. My dad deserves justice and the people of my hometown don't deserve to have him in any kind of power. So, it's me or no one and this guy gets away with murder and who knows what else."

The dark haired man blinked hard, hating the obvious solution that he really did not want to be staring him in the face. "She's going to worry either way unless you take some sort of back up to keep you from diving too deep into the stupid." Surely he had someone. _Anyone_. Even as he thought it Jacob knew it was wishful thinking. If he did, they wouldn't be having this conversation.

"Geez, let me just call Samar up and see if she wants to help me on an unauthorized investigation. She'd love that. Or, I could ask Aram. But, not sure how well he'd fare against these people. Or, maybe Cooper. Sure, my boss would love that." He pushed his beer away and rubbed the back of his neck. "Shy of me asking Reddington for help...I'm on my own. You should be happy. You may get rid of me finally," he huffed obviously annoyed. Jacob had a feeling Ressler had come to same conclusion. There was only one person who could back him up, and neither men liked it.

One of the last things he wanted to do was go with Ressler to Detroit, but Liz would never forgive him if he let the man she considered her best friend go off on this alone. He loosed a long breath. "Damn. Listen, book the flight, I'm going home and putting my kid to bed and… figuring out a way to tell Liz that I'm going to be gone for a few days to make sure her idiot partner doesn't get himself killed without worrying her."

* * *

Ressler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Next to him was Tom. He still couldn't believe he was trusting him to have his back in this mess. But, he never had imagined Tom would be the one to bring him information regarding his father. Ressler always imagined Reddington had something he was just waiting on the right time to offer in exchange for a favor but it never happened. And when Liz was on the run that would have been the opportune time for him to play his hand. All these years he had been looking for something to get the ball rolling again on his investigation. And Tom was the one to offer it up. He was conflicted on how to feel. How to feel about Tom. How to feel about going back home after years away. How to feel about seeing them again after the last blow up. He was conflicted about a lot of things. The thing that killed him the most was the idea that he now owed Tom. He owed him a lot.

Cooper had been shocked when Ressler asked for time off to tend to personal matters. He didn't pry even though Ressler knew he was curious. And Liz, was not very happy about any of this. She made him promise to do anything too stupid. She made him make a promise to the baby that "Uncle Donnie" wouldn't be stupid and get himself killed. Yeah, she played the kid card when she wanted something. And now here he was, next to Tom Keen, on his way back home.

"So you have family or anything back in Detroit? I bet you're an only child, aren't you? You definitely remind me of an only child." Tom hadn't actually been looking at him as the words left him like there was no off-button, but he glanced over and gave him an innocent look. "What?"

"You brought a book right? You might as well read it because you won't be writing my life story on this flight." Ressler shifted again in his seat. He wasn't looking to share anymore personal information than necessary.

"It's an hour and a half flight. We're barely going to be in the air before we're descending again. Anyway, it's not like I had any time to do a lot of research before all of this. I don't like to go jump into any kind of op blind." He offered a grin. "So start talking, Donnie. What do I need to know?"

"You know all you need to know for now, Spy Hard." They had lucked out and the plane wasn't full and there was no one seated in the third seat of their row. Still, Ressler wasn't comfortable discussing his family with Tom. He would share what was needed when the time came. If Tom was as good as he said he was he could manage.

"Spy Hard? Really? We gotta work on your nicknames, man," the younger man chuckled, slouching down in the seat a little, his long legs barely fit in behind the seat in front of him. "You have to give me something. I know that this guy has contacts, that he worked with your dad… his partner, right? He's obviously expanded his contacts past just drugs into arms. I got ahold of some old articles about it online last night and it looked like your dad died in the late nineties? So you were what? Sixteen? Seventeen? An ambitious guy can do a lot in that time if he's already got the fear of death worked into everyone around him."

"Sixteen," Ressler offered. "And yeah, Markin was his partner." Ressler didn't add that Markin had been like an uncle to him. And how he overheard a conversation between his dad and Markin one night a few weeks before his dad's death that set him on his quest for justice. No, he wasn't sharing just yet. "I need to talk to a former colleague of my dad's, Mikey Finnegan. Hopefully, I can catch him out and not at home. I don't want to explain your presence to his wife." Ressler cringed inside. Not just a former colleague, but his step father. A man he resented with every bone in his body.

Tom Keen was staring at him now, those dark blue eyes of his studying and picking apart tells that Ressler wasn't even sure that he had. It was a little unnerving, like being under a microscope and as Tom sat up a little straighter again Ressler found himself squaring his own shoulders on instinct. The dark haired man tilted his head a little and then smirked. "What? You think I'm going to embarrass you in front of your friends back home? Who is she?"

"I don't have any friends back home. And who _she_ is is not important," Ressler barked. He was going to avoid seeing her or talking to her as much as possible. And there was no way Tom Keen would meet his mother. "Why do you care so much anyway?"

"Because you seem _determined_ I shouldn't," Tom chuckled, "and I'll admit that makes me curious. I mean, I get not wanting to go back to a place with really crappy memories, but no one's forcing you to go. What, is it your mom or something? She hop into bed with your dad's buddy or something like that?" His words were flippant and his hand danced in the air as he spoke, laughing at the joke that only he found entertaining until Ressler didn't say anything and then the laugh died out and he blinked, turning his gaze on the other man as if he were waiting for him to tell him to roll his eyes and tell him to pull out his book or something.

"I hate you. I really do." Ressler glared at Tom. It was clear he was not going to let it go and he inadvertently hit the nail on the head about his mom and Mikey. He hated Tom's ability to push his buttons and to know what was going on without really knowing. "My mom was grieving and he took advantage." Ressler nodded to the bag at Tom's feet. "Now, will you read your damn book?"

The younger man set his jaw. "So let me get this straight: your dad's partner screwed him over and had him killed. Your dad's friend jumped in bed with his wife just after he died. You're starting to make more sense now."

"Your book. I suggest you read it. Now." Ressler tried to look around and if see if there were any open seats nearby. Maybe sitting next to each other was a bad idea. Tom was doing him a favor after all. Giving the man a black eye wasn't in his best interest right now.

"No, seriously," Tom kept going, "no wonder you took off running all over the world after Reddington. Anything would have been better than going home to that, I guess. So this guy. Mikey. You think he's dirty too?" He blinked in a way that almost looked like an innocent gesture. "Dude, I'm sticking my neck out for you. The _least_ you could do is give me a heads up on what we're facing. You know, if you'd just tell me I could stop guessing."

Perhaps it was time to bite the bullet and just tell the man, Ressler thought. He never spoke of his family or what happened to his dad. It was just too hard and something he didn't like to share. Mikey was his dad's best friend. They had gone to the Academy together and Ressler couldn't remember a birthday that Mikey wasn't at. That didn't mean he wanted his mother to move on from his father so quickly with him. And Mikey thought he could be a surrogate dad to a very angry, pissed off teen. Then there were suspicions he had. Was Mikey dirty like Tommy? Did he play a part in his father's death? Every time he tried to ask he was shut down.

"Do I think he's dirty? I've never had proof. Do I trust him? No. He knows more than he'll say. Is it because he's dirty or scared? I don't know but if he really cared about my father like he claims he would help." Ressler sighed and lowered his head. "I haven't seen them in years. She sends cards. He calls. And I don't want you meeting her because she's going to want to know you, to understand you. It's who she is. And I can't stand to watch her fawn all over you. I may get physically ill."

"Understand me?" Tom snorted. "What is there to understand? I'm your partner's husband. Tell her I'm a teacher. I haven't taught in a couple years, but I can still pull it off enough to pass for this. Don't worry, your mom won't know there's anything different _to_ understand." He gave Ressler a short, mirthless chuckle, and if the other man didn't know better he would have thought the words sounded almost a little bitter. "Figured that one out pretty early on."

Ressler smirked. Sure, if Tom wanted to think he could get something by his mom let him try. It would be amusing for him. His smirk turned to a smile. "Yeah, you go with that then." He looked down at his watch. "Almost there. Better get in to Teacher Tom mode, Spy Hard."

* * *

Jacob had been to a lot of places in his life. Between fostcare and his time working for Bud he had been to six of seven continents, most of the major cities in the US, and countless others across the world. He had stayed in a group home for exactly one week in Detroit when he was ten, and then he had slipped out before the sun had come up on the eighth day, walked down to the bus station, and planned on hopping on a Greyhound to LA. The money he had swiped from the lady that ran the home wouldn't get him nearly that far and he'd been picked up before he got on the bus anyway. Thankfully she didn't want him back, so he'd been shuffled off again and hadn't seen the city since. If it had changed since then, he had no idea. He had done his best to forget it.

"So what's first? Your folks' house?"

"My mom's house? Yeah, sure. Why the hell not. It will be fun, Teacher Tom," Ressler chuckled.

"Here's an idea: how about you _not_ call me that? See, this is why you can't go undercover. You would suck at it, and not just because you look like a cop."

"I can handle myself," Ressler muttered as they looked around the lot. Spotting the car they were assigned he moved towards it. "Keys?"

"They're always in the car, but I've got it. I've heard all about your driving skills or lack thereof."

"Look, sometimes hitting a suspect's car is the easiest way to end things," Ressler said in his defense. "And I know this town. I'll drive."

"That sounds like more of an excuse than a reason," Jacob said and shifted his stride to cut the other man off and moved directly for the driver's side of the vehicle.

"It's called a tactical maneuver, pal." Ressler huffed as Jacob opened the driver side door. He opened the back passenger door and dumped his bag back there. "You have that your corduroy jacket and glasses?"

"No, a tactical maneuver is getting in front of them and forcing _them_ into something solid, not being that something solid," Jacob answered, tossing his own bag back over the driver's seat, ignoring the jab about the jacket and glasses. He did, actually, have a pair of glasses in his bag. He'd gotten out of the habit of sleeping in his contacts once life had settled down a little and he didn't feel like he would always be woken by some disaster that needed attention. Now, though, he was starting to regret bringing them. He needed to give Ressler as little ammunition as possible against him. "Where're we going?"

Ressler reached over and turned on the GPS the car had and entered an address then turned to Jacob. "And, whatever gets the job done. Forcing them into something solid or being that something solid...in the end if it stops them that's all that counts."

"See, Donnie boy, we're not so different. We like to finish what we start," Jacob said with a grin and ignored the glare he received as he fished the keys out of the center console and kicked the vehicle into gear. "Seriously, though, you have no taste in cars. We come to Detroit and you can't even get us a good one."

"Not a lot of options last minute. Sorry, I didn't realize you were a car snob."

"Well, I have my preferences," Jacob mused. They drove in silence after that, and a glance over towards the FBI agent showed that his own eyes were fixed on the passing landscape. The GPS took them towards the edge of town and out towards the suburbs and Jacob tried not to groan out loud. Typical. Of course Ressler would have grown up with a little picket fence. He probably had played football with the neighbors out in the street or whatever it was that kids did when they stayed some place long enough to know neighbors. Jacob certainly didn't know from experience.

"I know what you are thinking, but we didn't always have this. We lived in a small apartment in the city until I was 10. My parents worked hard for this home. For me not to get my ass kicked when playing outside. So, it wasn't all rainbows and kittens," Ressler offered.

"Trust me, sooner or later you learn to kick back if you don't have anyone to whisk you away," Jacob answered gruffly as he took a turn onto a street and damn it all if he didn't see a white fence. He didn't know why he was getting so irritable about it. If they didn't need to be close to the Post Office, he'd have already been bugging Liz to move to a place with a yard, even if it was a small one like their town house had had. That's what parents did, he'd found out. They didn't leave the kid to get their ass kicked in the street. At least decent parents didn't, and as much as he liked to mock Ressler for it, he was pretty sure a decent man was likely raised by at least one decent parent if not both, no matter what had happened since.

"So, since you are so confident you can fool my mother, I'll just let you take the lead once we are inside.. See how good you. Mary's better, though."

"Mary, okay," Jacob murmured, filing it away. "Mary and Mikey. That's cute. It sounds like a sitcom."

"I hate you," Ressler said under his breath.

"And here I thought we were best friends." The dark haired man chuckled and pulled the car up to the curb as the GPS chimed that they had arrived at their destination. Ressler got out without another word and Jacob leaned over the console. "So are we staying here or a-" The passenger door slammed hard and he waited a beat before nodding. "Alright then," he grumbled to himself and slipped out of his own door, shoving the keys in his pocket as he circled around the vehicle. "So what are you planning to tell them about why you're here, because even though it's you, I somehow get the feeling you're not going for the whole truth."

"My mom doesn't need to know the truth." He stared at the house. "I need to talk to Mikey and then we are out. There are few boxes of my dad's things I've been...holding off...on getting. I'm here for those as we pass through town. It won't fool her but she shouldn't push if I bring dad into it."

"Being less than honest with your own mother. I can officially say that I haven't gone that far," Jacob said with a grin as they made their way up the sidewalk to the front door.

Ressler shot him a dirty look then as if he were afraid the door would burn him, he knocked. "Here goes nothing," he said so quietly Jacob almost missed it. Voices and a dog bark could be heard on the other side then the door swung open to reveal a who Jacob could only assume was Ressler's mother. It took a moment for it to register, but the tall brunette, the ginger must be from his dad, broke into a wide smile. "Hey, Ma," Ressler offered.

"Hey, Ma? It's been 5 years since I've seen that face of yours and all you have to say is 'Hey, Ma"? Mikey! Donnie's home!" Mary threw over shoulder before wrapping her son in a massive hug. "I don't care why you are here. I've missed you, baby." She pulled back and noticed Jacob. "And who is your friend?"

It took all of Jacob's considerable skill not to burst out laughing at the display. Oh, he wouldn't let it go easily, but there was a time and a place. He would just hold onto it a bit until Ressler thought that he was clear of it. So he swallowed the snarky response that was dancing on his tongue and put on the smile he had used when meeting kids' parents for parent-teacher conferences and extended a hand. "Tom Keen."

"Keen." Mary looked from Jacob to her son. "Isn't that the last name of your partner?" She turned to Jacob and smiled. "My son doesn't find it necessary to speak to his dear old mom so I only have the news to go by."

"And the guilt trips begin," Ressler grumbled.

"Why don't you boys come on in. Mikey is probably trying to catch Muffins. She's a speedy little thing." She turned and walked in to the house. "You know I've always wanted a lap dog, but Donnie here…," she trailed off. "That mutt you had would have eaten any little dog I brought home."

Even Jacob couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at the thought of Donald Ressler with a lap dog. It was too much. "I always pictured you a German Shepherd kind of guy," he managed, his gaze flickering back over to Mary who had turned briefly, and then to the room. There were pictures everywhere, most filled with his wife's partner at various ages. So he'd been right. Ressler was an only child. That or his brother or sister was the black sheep of the family that was not acknowledged in photos.

Mary turned back and he offered her a bright smile, hands dancing as he spoke in an easy manner. "Your son was nice enough to take care of Hudson - Liz's and my dog - when we were out of town, and barely gave him back. He's not a lap dog, but not huge either, so maybe he's opening up," Jacob chuckled, opting for the more diplomatic way of describing Liz's absents than saying she'd been on the run. Mary had said that she caught pieces of information about her son through the news, but he wasn't sure if that had simply been a jab or if she had kept up with everything that had happened in the last year or so.

"Donnie's dog was a German Shepard mix. He failed K-9 training so David brought him home. We tried a poodle before that. Do you remember Fluffy?"

"The fur ball that bit me? How could I forget?" Ressler looked around. "Mikey leave the house because I'm here? He can't still be chasing a dog."

"He thinks it's always about him, Tom," Mary laughed. "No. Mikey has missed you as well. He was very proud of your hard work. Guys at the club told him you were a cold bastard for chasing your partner. Mikey though, he said you were protecting her because there is no way David Ressler's son would do anything but the right thing." She yelled for Mikey one more time before turning to Jacob. "How is she settling in to life after all that? I can't imagine what that poor thing went through."

"It's been rough, but it's helped that her team supported her like they did," Jacob answered and didn't risk a look back at Ressler. It wasn't like the two of them had discussions about it, or even talked about it at all, but he wasn't an idiot. Naive as Ressler had been in places, he'd been willing to give everything to keep Liz safe in the end and that meant more to Jacob than he dared admit out loud. He spotted a picture set in clear view on the table and motioned to it. "Quantico graduation?"

Before the other man could answer their attention was drawn by the sound of the door and a man grumbling from out of their line of view. "Something this small shouldn't be able to run that fast."

Ressler visibly tensed and stood up straight. A man in his later sixties walked in. He immediately gave off that 'I don't take anyone shit's' attitude. He locked eyes with Ressler and the two men stood still for a moment. Mary was the one to cut the silence.

"Oh, consider it your exercise, hun." Mary obviously was trying to lighten the mood.

"Don," Mikey said as he nodded.

"Mike," Ressler replied. "We were in town. And I realized I still hadn't picked up some those boxes you two had for me. So, I'd like to get them and we'll be gone."

"Mike Finnegan," he said turning his attention to Jacob. "You are?"

"Tom Keen," Jacob answered, suddenly feeling very much like he was a teenager again being interrogated by a cop. If this was what Ressler had grown up with, no wonder he'd turned out the way he had. There hadn't been any hope for him.

"Keen?" Mike Finnegan echoed gruffly, quirking an eyebrow. "You related to his partner?"

Jacob offered him a smile. "Yes. I met Don through Liz. Pleasure to meet you." He was expecting the look from Ressler, but there was something strange about the way that Mary was looking at him, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Mikey, why don't you take Donnie upstairs and show him where the boxes are," she said softly. "Tom, would you mind helping me in the kitchen? It's not every day my son is home. I'm going to make you boys dinner and I'm not taking no for answer." Mary put her hand on Jacob's back and led him through the living room towards the kitchen without waiting for an answer. She looked up to Jacob and smiled. "Please tell me you know your way around the kitchen? Mikey, he's no help ever."

"I do, actually," he answered, shoving down the feeling that something was wrong. He was being paranoid. The sweet woman was just excited to see her son and he'd been so focused in staying _out_ of the field for the last few months that his senses were going into overload now that he was anywhere near it. He was just overreacting. Everything was fine.

* * *

TBC

Notes: I don't do a great deal of co-writing, but I'm so glad that SaraBeth1 agreed to work on this project with me. We just wrapped up the writing for it and it'll be several chapters long, so sit back and enjoy the Tessler snark and adventure :)

Next time - Mikey and Ressler have a chat, Tom finds out there's more to Mary than he suspected, and the boys prove they can find trouble anywhere.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Donald Ressler followed his step-father up the stairs for the boxes in question. He didn't speak and he hoped the other man wouldn't either, but as they reached the top, the older man turned to level a look that wasn't quite a glare. "You disappear for five years with barely a word to your mother and just show up on the doorstep with some weak excuse about coming for some boxes that you've been putting off taking for years. I hope you're not planning to slip out before you've had a sitdown with your mother at least."

And there it was. Mikey was in detective mode. Analyzing Ressler's moves and waiting for him to say the wrong thing to get caught up on. He forgot just how good Mikey was and how well he knew him. He might as well cut to the chase and get it over with. Besides, who knew the damage his mother could do with Tom downstairs.

"I'll stay for dinner but I didn't come here to talk to her." Ressler took a breath. "You promised me years ago you had no part in my father's death. Prove it. Tell me what you know."

Mikey stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "I've told you everything I can, Don. Every scrap of evidence has been gone over a hundred times by the department. You know that. If we could bring the bastards in we would. Is that why you're here? You have some new thread you think you're following?" He sighed, shaking his head. "You gotta let it rest, Donnie. I loved your dad like a brother, but he's gone. Stirring up all this, all it's going to do is hurt your ma. You don't want to do that."

"By a department full of dirty cops. You expect me trust anything that they say?" Ressler had learned more about the depth of corruption than he ever wanted to in his lifetime. It cost his father his life. It nearly took Liz's. No. He was going to be smarter this time. Trust no one. That way you don't get betrayed. But, the little boy in him, the one who looked up to Mikey, wanted to trust him. The teen who cried in Mikey's arms after his father's funeral wanted to believe him. But, the FBI agent in him refused it. "When did Markin move in to the arms trade?"

There was a brief flash through the older man's eyes, one that Ressler wouldn't have caught if he hadn't known him so well. "I don't know what you talking about," he lied through his teeth.

Ressler frowned then looked to the ground. Mikey was lying. He had hoped that he would finally be truthful. If their last fight had been indication, this wouldn't be going well. Mikey was well trained in undercover work and the art of lying. And Ressler had truly hoped he had meant more to Mikey than the brotherhood he was protecting. Mikey can fool the best of them but today he wasn't fooling his step son.

"That's bullshit. You can lie to me if that's how you want to play it. But, I won't quit. Not now."

Ressler grimaced when Mikey grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him in to a room. It had been his old room. And not much had been changed. Mikey let go of Ressler then leaned against the door. A firm look set on his face. "Listen to me, Don. I know you don't trust me on this, and that's your call, but I will not let you bust in here and stir all of this shit up again, you hear me? Stay away from Tommy Markin. I'm trying to do you a favour, kid. Don't be so stubborn you get yourself hurt."

There was something about his words that didn't match his tone and left Ressler knowing he knew more than he was saying. The problem was he still wasn't sure if it was fear or if the man really was dirty and just trying to protect his own assets.

"I don't need your help. I'll do this on my own. No one helped my dad but I won't make the same mistake he did." Ressler paused. "I had no intention on bringing my mom into this either. I'm passing through town, wanted dad's things. I'll stay for dinner then Tom and I are out of your hair." He looked Mikey in the eye. "I'm not going home without the answers I came here for though."

Mikey gave him a long look before shaking his head. "You go digging, you're bringing your mother into it. Your friend too, but you've always been stubborn. You have to see it to believe it. Come on, if we don't come back down with those boxes your mother will know something's wrong."

Ressler decided to let it go with Mikey for now. He watched as Mikey opened up the closet and slide two decent sized boxes out and handed one to Ressler. Well, he'd be paying to have those shipped home he figured. Together they walked down the stairs and out to the rental car where they put the boxes in the trunk. It was probably time to save Tom from his mom. She was more than likely trying to pull whatever she could out of him to figure out just exactly it was that didn't sit right with her. And Ressler really hoped he hadn't miss the show yet.

Tom was chattering away when they came back inside, stirring absently at a boiling pot of noodles as he went on about some kid that supposedly was in a class. If he had ever had a Billy Salter in a class before, Ressler had no way to know, but he knew that it had been a couple years at least. It wasn't like Tom had done any _recent_ teaching.

"I seriously have never seen a kid get such a sugar high from one fruit rollup," he was saying. "And then he'd rile the rest of them up. It was always an adventure." He glanced over, the smile that he wore reminding Ressler of the naive teacher that he had played the part of while married to Liz. He slipped right into it without so much as a twitch, the carefree attitude fitting far too easily. It wasn't him, though. Even knowing that Ressler found that he had to remind himself.

"What is that you really do?" Mary asked. She set her dish towel down and looked Tom in the eye. Ressler knew that look. She found something. Something that Tom did that alerted her. She wasn't mad, but almost amused. As if trying to put together a puzzle. When Tom didn't reply she motioned to his face. "Your eyes, dear. They give it away. Oh, it's slight. Barely noticeable. But, it's your eyes. They give it away."

Tom blinked hard. "I'm sorry?" he asked, his voice dripping with innocence. "I'm not sure… My eyes?"

"Oh, you're good." She smiled. "I call bullshit on him, Donnie," Mary called over Tom to where Ressler and Mikey were standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry but I wasn't born yesterday. You aren't the first and you won't be the last who has to tried to fool me. So, we have all evening to share."

"Sorry, Tom. Did I forget to tell you my mom is a psychologist. She worked for the state for a while interviewing criminals. She's seen it all." Ressler couldn't control his grin. The look on Tom's face was priceless.

His expression slowly changed and the innocent teacher melted away as he tilted his head a little to the side, chuckling to himself. "Well played, Ressler," he managed, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. "I should have seen it a mile away. I mean, I married a profiler. I really am slipping." He turned his attention back to Mary and offered her a charming smile. "What I really do is… complicated at best. The easy answer is that I help the FBI on cases that they don't have the right connections on or know where to look. Well, part of the FBI. Well…. Okay, mostly just your son and Liz's team." He shrugged. "Complicated. And probably classified." He glanced over at Ressler. "I never thought about that. Am I suddenly one of your classified assets?"

There was an amusement in his voice that made Ressler want to pop him in the nose.

"Oh, you know how to push Donnie's buttons, don't you?" Mary laughed. "Donnie, you and Mikey go set the table. Tom and I have some more work in here to do."

Ressler grumbled, his victory over Tom now gone. He could hear Mikey chuckle as he grabbed some plates and headed to the dining room. If dinner went like Ressler thought it would he'd need a drink. A few. He could hear his mother and Tom laughing in the kitchen as he set the silverware on the table and rolled his eyes. Tom Keen had won his mother over. His smart, no nonsense mother. Tomorrow, they'd start in on Markin and he'd be out of this town.

* * *

If there was one thing Jacob Phelps had learned at a relatively young age it was that life threw curveballs. It was how you handled those curveballs that mattered. He had always been decent at squirming out of bad situations, but his time with the Major had helped him take that to the next level. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he had a certain type of respect for people that could call him on his bullshit. It was an incredibly short list of people that could do it without pause, and apparently Mary had been added to that short list.

Ressler had gone quiet during dinner and had lobbed a glare that could have killed when Jacob had insinuated that he was pouting. When the federal agent had decided he needed a drink after dinner, Jacob hadn't given him a choice but to take him along. He was on a roll and he'd be damned if he left it there. He couldn't say exactly what it was about getting under Ressler's skin that was quite so entertaining, but the man did provide a certain level of amusement.

They took a seat at a bar that Jacob got the impression Ressler knew and he flashed a wide, somewhat innocent grin. "You really should go home more often. Your mom is great."

"Yeah, she's a great lady. Home is D.C.. This place hasn't been home in a long time," Ressler said gruffly. "And it's so typical of you. You just waltz in and win the woman over."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. To be fair, she called me on my crap and she still liked me." Jacob almost laughed to himself. It was something he'd never really risked thinking about in a very long time: the idea that someone would prefer the real him rather than the mask he put on. Outside of Liz, few people did.

"She also liked Tommy Markin for a time. Don't get too excited." Ressler ordered a drink then turned his attention to the TV overhead.

"Wow, you know how to thank a guy for sticking his neck out to help you by comparing him to the guy you hate most." Jacob shook his head and leaned against the bar. "So is this place one of your old hangouts?"

"Before things got...to how they are now...Mikey and I would pop in here whenever I came back for a visit." Regret was visible on Ressler's face.

"You know, the way you react to him I guess I expected a complete asshole," Jacob said as he took a sip of his beer and risked a look at Ressler out of his peripheral vision. "As cops go, he seems like a pretty decent guy. So what pushed you over the edge to hating him like you do now?"

"I haven't had enough of these," Ressler said tapping his drink "to get into my family issues with you."

Jacob snorted. "Fine." He motioned to the bartender. "Two whiskeys neat please." He glanced over to Ressler, trying to gauge if he'd read him right. "You look like a whiskey guy."

"Donnie here is more of vodka guy, right buddy?" a short stocky man said slapping Ressler's back laughing.

"Hey, Darren," Ressler said through gritted teeth.

"Put it on my tab. Donnie Ress is in town!" Darren said to the bartender chuckling then walked away shaking his head.

"That guy's an ass. He and his buddies got me trashed one night. Mikey was not too happy." He looked over to Tom. "Whiskey is just fine."

"He's a cop," Jacob said, watching the man as he sauntered away. His gaze swiveled around and down the bar. "Hell, Ressler. You brought me to a cop bar, didn't you? This may turn into a race." He grabbed the glass as soon as the bartender handed him his and downed it in one swallow, the whiskey burning down his throat. He really was slipping if he hadn't noticed that when he first walked in. It was fine. Everything was fine. It wasn't like they were paying any attention to him anyway, or even if they were, as if he'd done anything to deserve it recently. It was an old discomfort at most.

Ressler chuckled before downing his drink then motioning for another. "Fatherhood is really taking its toll on you if you didn't catch on this was a police hang out."

"Yeah. Guess it is," Jacob huffed and reached for the second glass that was handed to him. "This is all going on that guy's tab right?" he asked with a grin, motioning to Darren that had dropped by and then moved on. "I mean, that's what I heard him say. Didn't you hear that, Ressler?"

That elicited an honest smile out of Ressler. "Oh, yeah. He definitely said that."

Jacob grinned broadly and raised his glass. "Never thought a cop would buy me a drink." The glasses clinked together and he took down about half of it, watching to see if Ressler did the same.

Ressler did indeed follow Tom's lead then set the glass down and stared into the dark liquid. "Mikey and I have always had our differences. After my dad was killed I was a little shit. We were fine for awhile then I joined the Bureau. And met Audrey. Then she left me. I was not only obsessed with Reddington at that point, but also what happened to my dad. Five years ago we got into a huge fight." He laughed bitterly. "I didn't even call and tell them I got shot and nearly died. They don't know about Audrey either."

"Damn," Jacob murmured, sipping on the second half of his drink. "Must of been a hell of a fight."

"It was. We both said a few things neither of us meant. Mom got hurt in the process. I just...it was easier to walk away." Ressler finished his drink. "I've had my doubts about him. Where he stands. I don't know...if...he can't be part of this. He can't."

"Never said he had to be. He's a cop. I'm not really inclined to trust him to begin with," Jacob answered, scooting the glass for a refill and smirking at Ressler. "Keep up."

"Trying to get me drunk or trying to rack up a hefty bill for asshat Darren?" Ressler questioned.

"Pick one," the younger man answered with a grin. "Who knows what sort of secrets you have, Agent Ressler. In my experience, people talk a little easier with alcohol in their system. Well, most people."

"Between the two of us, I think you have the better secrets to share. So, tell me, does this work for super secret agent spies as well us normal folk?"

"Are you asking if I drink enough if I'll spill all my secrets? Yes. Let me tell you them all right now." He looked over to Ressler and started laughing openly at him. "You get that I have over twenty years of training for against _any_ sort of interrogation, yeah?"

Ressler flashed a look of annoyance at Jacob. "Do you have any lines other than 'I have over twenty years of training'? It gets old man. I know. I get it. You had super spy training. Enough." Ressler took a sip. "Your poor kid. I can see it now.. 'Now, Hope. Remember, dad had special spy training so I know if you are lying. Did you eat that candy bar?'" He said in his best Jacob voice. Then he switched to little girl voice. "No, daddy, I didn't. Nevermind the chocolate all over my face." He laughed at himself for moment before taking another sip.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Seriously, that's the best you have? That didn't even sound like me. Did you fail the undercover portion of Quantico?"

"Sorry impersonations of your friend's annoying husband was not part of FBI training," Ressler snapped back. "Yeah, that's it. I'm going to teach Hope to call you Spy Hard. It's settled."

"And you'll be Uncle Boy Scout. Keep pouring?" he asked the bartender as he motioned for him to keep going on the refill. "And no, I don't plan to tell my daughter about my training. I don't… I won't lie to her, but the less she knows about what my time growing up, the better."

"Perhaps I'll have to come up with something better then. I suppose I'll have to agree that keeping her from knowing some of your past is a good idea." Ressler's face turned serious. "You have a good thing back home. Those ladies waiting at home for you. You're lucky."

Jacob felt a smile take hold of him without permission, Liz and their daughter coming to mind. "Yeah," he murmured. "I am. Didn't think I'd live to see the day." He pulled in a deep breath, trying to refocus. Ressler was turning the conversation back around on him and he'd almost let him. Clever fed, but he'd never admit it out loud. He turned his eyes on him, swallowing down the whiskey hard and studying him. There was more to their irritability at each other than a simple lack of anything in common. The funny thing was that they had the most important thing in common: Liz. It had always been a point of discontent between them, and even now Jacob hated the way that Liz went on about how Ressler didn't open up to her like he used to. "She misses you, you know," the words slipped out and Jacob was acutely aware that he had had more to drink than he realized - or it was affecting him more than he was used to - as soon as they had. He schooled his expression, though, as if he'd meant to say it.

"I miss her," he said softly. "It's not the same now. It will never be the same. She can't be...she's not..," Ressler trailed off. "You know how much I hate that she picked you?" Ressler snapped. As if lashing out would take back what he just almost admitted.

Jacob stared for a moment, the words sinking in and he blinked, letting them rattle around in his mind for a moment to make sure he'd heard them right. He'd known. He'd always known, but he couldn't say that he had ever expected Donald Ressler to admit it. It terrified him in a way. Here was this man - this _good_ man that was everything Jacob could only pretend to be - that cared about Liz. Maybe even loved her. If she'd known that… Well, he didn't know what she would have done. The idea of losing her, of her leaving, was more than he cared to dwell on, and it left his mood soured as his shoulders slumped and he turned his gaze on the bar in front of him. He took a long drink from his glass and snorted, setting it down hard, scooting it forward before reaching for Ressler's mostly empty glass and having them both refilled. "It's a race," he reminded him with a smirk. "And your buddy's paying."

"It worries you. My feelings for her," Ressler said, obviously not catching or caring that Jacob was trying to change the subject. "As much as I'd love to be some macho guy and say I could have her if I wanted...it'd be a lie. And I'm not the kind of guy to go after another man's family." Ressler took another drink. "Damn booze."

Jacob chuckled into his own glass. "Seriously, man. Pick a subject other than this one and I'll tell you pretty much anything. Let's stay the hell away from this landmine, huh?"

"Anything, huh? In that case…," Ressler paused then smirked. "Your first kill."

The dark haired man blinked hard, images rushing through his mind easier than they might have had he been entirely sober. He frowned and shoved the memories down hard before letting his lips quirk upward in a smirk. "Yeah, not giving you something with no statute of limitations while sitting in a bar full of cops. I plead the fifth. New question."

"The cop in me had to try," Ressler offered in defense. "Your family. Where are they?"

Jacob's smirk didn't fade. "At home, probably asleep with any luck on Liz's part."

"Smart ass." Ressler shook his head. "Your mom and dad."

His expression finally evened out a little and he lifted the glass to his lips and took a long drink from it. Well, he'd said most anything. He really didn't have a valid excuse against this one. "I have no idea who my dad was. Not mentioned on my birth certificate and as far as I remember I never met him. I have maybe two clear memories of my mom? I was just something she had to deal with until she didn't, and then CPS picked me up. No idea what happened to her after that." He finished his glass in one more gulp and loosed a long breath. He did his best not to think about her. It never ended well.

"Damn, that…," Ressler waited a beat then said "sucks."

Jacob shrugged. "Not as much as staying would have," he said quietly. "I would have been dead either way if I had. I guess at least with all the shit that happened afterwards I had a fighting chance."

"You fell in with a man like The Major...how was that a fighting chance?" Ressler shook his head, and Jacob wasn't sure if it was sympathy he saw on the other man's face or not. "I gotta take a leak," Ressler blurted out of the blue and slipped off his barstool. He stumbled a bit but straightened himself. "There's a booth over there. And they have _amazing_ nachos. Do me a favor and order us some?" And with that Ressler was gone.

Jacob snorted, shaking his head as the bartender nodded that he'd heard and the dark haired man started for the booth, swallowing hard as he did, images of a woman he did his damndest not to think about floating through his mind. Yeah, even Bud had been a fighting chance next to her. Even if Bud had tried to kill him more than once now. At least he could swing back, just like he had with his last foster father. He'd been a small child with his mother and she'd left him to fend for himself for days on end. According to his file they estimated she'd been gone nearly five days when they had found him. He didn't remember that, though. He just remembered her back as she walked out the door and her blurred face as she shoved him under the water, trying to end what she must have thought was the only mistake she'd ever made by not tossing him out as soon as he was born. It was fine, though. Ressler hadn't been able to walk a straight line all the way to the restroom, so he wouldn't remember to ask when he got back and Jacob wouldn't remind him. He just hoped that he wouldn't remember the conversation to bring it back up when he sobered up.

* * *

Ressler washed his hands and looked in the mirror. His cheeks were getting red. A sure sign perhaps he had one too many. But, he felt a warmth in him and a lightness he hadn't felt in a long time so he just didn't care. And, if Tom did as he asked there would be nachos waiting for him at the table. Nachos made everything better. Even being stuck in his home town with the woman he...with his partner's husband. As he made his way out in the bar, he found Tom sitting in the booth. They were talking about something. It was kind of deep but Ressler had forgotten. He tended to be like that when intoxicated. And happier than he usually was.

"Hey, man. You order the nachos?" He slid in the booth across from Tom.

"Yep. They're on their way. Two more rounds too, but I figured ice was probably not a bad life choice for this one." He looked at him for a moment, eyes studying, and damn it all if he didn't at least _sound_ entirely sober. It must have been something he'd learned. Had to be.

"For once, I'll have to agree." Ressler was trying to remember what they were discussing before his bathroom break but for the life of him could not. "What were we talking about? Earlier? Before I got called away to the office," he laughed at his bad joke.

Tom rolled his eyes a little and shook his head. "I think you were about to give me some information on Markin. That or your deepest darkest secret that I can hold over your head once you sober up. On second though, I'm going with the second."

"Why would I ever give you any kind of leverage against me? And you'd just tell Liz. And she'd tell Reddington...and then everyone would know." Ressler couldn't believe Tom. Like he was going to give him anything good. His mother probably already gave him a treasure trove of information while making dinner. Yeah, he was going to pass on that. "I'll pass."

"Damn. I was hoping to hear the clown story straight from you. You know your mom keeps a picture?" The waitress set the nachos down between them and a drink down in front of each man. Tom flashed her a smile. The man was enjoying this far too much. "Thanks."

Ressler clenched his jaw for a brief moment. "Yeah, she can't keep her mouth shut on that one." Ressler had a fear that Tom now had a copy of the infamous clown picture and his life would never be the same. "All you need to know is one night my parents were watching tv while I should have been sleeping. I peeked my head out and what is on TV...but some creepy as clown. They were watching poltergeist. My birthday party was the next day. Guess what the entertainment was?"

Tom snorted and grabbed a nacho. "That's amazing. I'm holding onto that one," he promised. "So, we were talking about you growing up or something?"

"No, no, no," Ressler chuckled. "I'm not giving you anything else. What was Tommy Boy like as kid? I mean besides being some degenerate thug?" Ressler laughed. Something in him told him this may not be a path he wanted to go down, but he pushed that nagging feeling and whatever brought it there away.

The dark haired man watched him for just a moment, his expression eerily blank before a calm smile took hold. "Degenerate thug, huh? That's no fun. You seem to know that already. I think your childhood seems a lot more interesting. I mean, c'mon. It was enough to drag you back to this place and face people that, in all honesty, seem like decent people you've treated crappy. I mean, I've seen my fair share of terrible father-figures, and I'll tell ya, that's not the vibe I get off of your pal Mike and your mom is a class act. So tell me, what could have _possibly_ been so bad that you walked off and don't bother with a family that genuinely seems to love you?"

"You think you know so much," Ressler snapped. "You think you have me all figured. Some spoiled brat who grew up with anything he wanted. You don't know a damn a thing." He was getting angry. It wasn't the first time someone called him on his decision to walk away from his family. Audrey did when they got back together. Their first time around she used to tell him to let the past go but he couldn't. "You want to know what a class act my Ma is? She shipped me off to Maryland for a 6 months to stay with my grandpa because Mikey said it was best for me. And when I finally get to come home she's shacking up with Mike. Ships me off, moves him in." Ressler reached for his now refilled drink. "My dad was killed and she sends me away. To my grandfather who is ex PD and filled my mind with all sorts of theories of what happened to my dad." Ressler balled his fist under the table. "Sorry I didn't live on the streets and I didn't have to steal to survive, but my life has been anything but perfect."

He reached for another sip and Tom's hand shot forward. "I think you're done for a while. Eat your damn nachos." His voice was tight and controlled, his eyes carefully shielding whatever it was he was feeling so that no visible reaction came through. He pulled the glass full of whiskey back and sat back in his seat.

"I don't want my damn nachos. I want my drink," Ressler hissed. This was why he didn't discuss his family or past. It brought back painful memories. He was trying to work on his emotions and how to best to deal with them with his sponsor from his NA meetings but so far...Donald Ressler and emotions were a dangerous mix.

"You're the one that wanted them in the first place," Tom pointed out reasonably, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated fashion and leaving it standing on end. He sighed, setting his jaw a little. "You don't want to talk about it, fine. Dropped, because I just remembered that the only reason I give a damn at all is because I'm trying to keep Liz from worrying, so let's focus on what we're here for: Markin. We've been here for an afternoon and all you've managed to do is piss people off and get drunk. Tell me about Markin and what plan you have."

"Find him and put a bullet in his head." Part of him meant it. Part of him wanted to look that bastard in the eye and end him. But, the agent him wanted it done right. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I've lost count on how many we've had. Discussing plans while...over the limit...not always a good mix."

"Sounds like the first intelligent thing said in a while from what I hear."

Both men looked up, startled, and found Mikey standing over them with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown set deep.

"What the hell, Mikey? Did you get a phone call the minute I walked in or something? Everytime. I can't do a damn thing without you knowing about it," Ressler growled as he snagged his drink from where Tom placed it. He downed in one go.

"No," the man that had married his mother growled, "I got a call when you started stumbling around the bar. You don't get to turn this on me, Don. Come on. Let's pay the tab and go."

Tom quirked a smile. "Taken care of already," he offered, glancing around and Ressler saw him check to make sure Darren was still up at the bar.

Ressler slid out of the booth and nodded to the bartender. He could feel Tom and Mikey on his heel as he walked up to Darren and with a shit eating grin he slapped the man on the back. "Hey, man. Great seeing you." And when the bartender slid Darren the bill, Ressler laughed. "Thanks for the drinks."

"Yeah, sure," Darren began not realizing the two drinks he intended had become their whole night. Ressler jumped back just as Darren spun around. "You little shit," he said with venom in his voice.

"You know what they say about payback, right?" Ressler looked him in the eye. Daring him to start something.

He heard a shift behind him and expected Mikey to put a hand on him to hold him there. If he did, though, Ressler wasn't sure he wouldn't turn swinging. Instead, just out of his peripheral he saw Tom come to stand next to him, the smirk aimed at Darren. "Sit down and have another drink, buddy. You earned it tonight." There was something about his tone that made it sound like he knew every ounce of what Ressler did about the man, but he couldn't have. Darren didn't know that though, and apparently he was further gone than either of them were. There was something he should remember: Tom's tricks to defuse situations didn't seem to work on drunk cops. Darren stood up from his seat, still pissed.

"I'm not paying this, you and your friend better pony up before I kick your asses."

"I would love to see you try," Ressler taunted. He was always the first to throw a punch in a fight but in a situation like this, he wanted Darren to.

"Man, you're the one that offered. Not our fault if you're too drunk now to remember," Tom popped off and straightened his back a little to pull himself up to his full height. Apparently he was as ready for the fight as Ressler felt.

"Boys," Mikey warned from behind, his tone sounding more like he was talking to two punk teenagers than two grown men.

"Typical. Gotta get Mikey to keep you inline. You're a hot head with a bad temper. Your dad must be rolling in his grave at the disappointment you've become," Darren mouthed out. Then came Ressler's fist right to his face.

Darren was back on his feet in a second and all hell broke loose. He took a swing and Ressler ducked, stepping back and into Tom who was right next to him, eyeing the other men - all cops - that were tensed and ready. "I swear, Ressler, if you get me arrested I'm going to break something on you," the former operative growled.

If Ressler had thought that meant that he was going somewhere, though, he was wrong. Tom looked ready to take on anyone that was stupid enough to come at him, not budging from his place.

"We won't get arrested...but the odds aren't in our favor," he hissed as he dodged a blow from Darren. The next hit connected with his gut.

"The one time you decide to break a rule has to be in a bar full of cops," Tom growled and Ressler risked a look back, seeing him dodge a blow just to take another, stumbling back and into him so that they were back to back. "Listen, I'm sure you have some valiant no running policy or some shit, but we're going to get our asses handed to us if we don't go now."

Ressler looked for Mikey but couldn't find him. They were well outnumbered and while he knew the cops never arrested another cop when called to this place they were still likely to take on a hurting if they didn't book it. Ressler got a few more hits in, one to Darren and a guy he didn't recognize before yelling to Tom, "I'm not that stupid."

"Could have fooled me," Tom snapped, taking a hard blow that sent him to his knees. He sat there for a moment, looking dazed, before his gaze hardened just a little and he swept out with one leg, easily taking the man from his feet and his boot connected with his chin before he popped back to his feet. "Could we please get out of here before I have a warrant issued on for me for killing one of these idiots?"

"Yeah, let's roll!" Ressler kicked Darren in the gut then bodyslammed another guy to clear their way out.

Tom was right with him as they burst through the door and saw Mikey sitting in the driver's seat of his car with the window rolled down and he offered them a knowing look. "Your bags are in trunk, but I'm not defending you to your mother."

If Ressler was going to argue that he didn't need Mike's help, he didn't get the chance. Tom moved past him, grabbing a handful of his coat as he did, and shoved him in the backseat. "You know, there was a day when I said I would have paid good money to see you in a bar fight," he grumbled, following him, "but I take it back now."

Ressler didn't say anything the whole ride home. Darren was right. There was a pattern of Mikey coming to his aid but that was mostly when he was that angry teen after his father died. Darren was a second generation police office and their dads worked together. So, this wasn't exactly his first run in with him. Ressler didn't want to admit that hitting Darren felt good. He hated that violence had soothed him. Tomorrow he was going to embark on his mission to get his father justice. Tonight, he had to survive his mother. Because, Lord knows she would was going to be laying in to him something fierce.

"That was years in the making so you know. First the prick steals my girlfriend then he and his buddies get me trashed the day before I leave for the college," Ressler finally spoke up as they pulled in the driveway.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to make you feel better," Tom grumbled, slumped down in his seat and gaze focused on whatever was on the other side of the window. Ressler couldn't tell if he was pissed that it all had happened or if he was just saving whatever he was really thinking for later. Whatever the case, apparently he was done talking. The car stopped and the dark haired man piled out before the engine was even cut, circling around to grab his bag and leaving Ressler to face it alone.

* * *

It had been a hell of a night. Jacob ran the towel across his hair and winced at the bruises already starting to form. As much as he wanted to say he was pissed at Ressler for starting the fight and dragging him into it - and he wasn't _happy_ about that, of course - that wasn't what was bothering him. Ressler was right. He thought he did have him all figured out, and he was still pretty sure he was close to the point, but then there'd be something. It was small, maybe not even something someone else would recognize, but it made it harder to hate him. It was a lot easier if he could just hate him and do this strictly for Liz.

Jacob hadn't been so caught up in the fight that he hadn't noticed that Ressler had take a couple of blows he didn't need to because he was working with him on the fight. Oh, he'd dodged and avoided as best as he could with as much whiskey as he had in him, but there had been one particular time that Jacob had caught him out of the corner of his eye and had seen him catch hold and pull one very angry man's attention away from Jacob so that he didn't get his head bashed in from behind. He hadn't needed to. It hadn't done Ressler any real favours, but he'd done it. It was a hell of alot easier hating him and he wished he could just go back to that. This trip had been stupid.

He stepped out of the bathroom, tugging his t-shirt over his head after his shower, and nearly ran straight into the fed in question. Well, apparently his mother was done with him for the evening.

"Those conversations have never been fun. Add the alcohol and sore body…," Ressler shook his head. "I'm a grown man and my mom just went at me like I was a kid."

Jacob snorted and ran a hand through his damp hair. "Sorry I missed that. Pretty sure I heard a little of it even with the shower running."

"Oh she wanted to have a chat with you too. Mikey told her putting one dumb kid in his place was enough for tonight," Ressler chuckled and shifted his feet then looked around the hallway.

"I really can't decide if I feel a little honoured that they give a damn or terrified that I'm next," Jacob murmured with a smirk. He shook his head and leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of the bar fight and seeing it still etched into Ressler's features. This place must have been hell on him with all the memories and the people that knew him before. Jacob found himself loosing a long breath, the words riding out on it before he gave them permission to. Apparently he hadn't entirely sobered up yet. "What the hell are you doing here, Ressler? I mean, I know I wouldn't be caught dead going back to Chicago, even if I could….." He stopped blinking hard. "I get that you want to right some wrong or whatever but… do you really think you can take this guy down? You just had a bar full of cops - cops that _know_ you - willing to beat your ass into the ground. You think for one second most of them aren't in his pocket?"

"I'm sure a good deal are. The others...they know I'm a fed. There's always rivalry between feds and local PD. And I'm not one of them. You always back your own," he said in his defense. "As for coming back...I need to try. I'm tired of living with this. That my dad gets executed and the guy behind it walks."

"And what? You're willing to die to try to make it happen? Listen, man, I've been up against some pretty crazy odds before. Hell, I've been up against them with _you_ , but sometimes you just have to cut your losses or you're going to get yourself and everyone around you killed. Those people down there -" he motioned down the hall that Ressler had come from after talking to Mary - "are still alive. They still live here. You thought about what happens if you don't win this war?"

"They will have each other. I have no one, Tom, besides them. I need to do this. I need to try. And if it's gets too deep I want you to leave and go back home to your family." Ressler looked down at his feet. "I know it would kill her to lose me, but she'll have Mikey. I can't not try." He looked back up to Jacob and he looked defeated. "I have to do this. You don't. If you think it's too dangerous back out and I won't think anything of it."

Jacob sighed heavily. "Damn you and your principles," he growled irritably. "I really want to hate you, you know. It'd keep me alive longer." He pushed a long breath through his nose that came out more as a snort. "Listen, if we're going to do this - I mean _really_ do this - we need to trust each other."

"Yeah, I really want to hate you too," Ressler chuckled. "I've learned we don't always get our way." Ressler nodded down the hall as if to say follow me and began to walk down the stairs and out the back door. He took a seat in one of the lawn chairs and motioned for Jacob to follow. "If you want trust, tell me about your first kill. I know the circumstances weren't the same but for me it was John Taggert. Bastard took his wife hostage. He came out of the house without her waving his gun. I put one between the eyes. We go inside and she's dead. The family dog is dead. We found their son hiding in closet. I'll never forget for as long as I live."

Jacob stared at him, pushing down the sudden urge to bolt. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, and reminding himself that it wasn't just a cop demanding answers. This was Liz's partner. This was a man that he'd fought side by side with before - now more than once - and had talked down from killing an unarmed man. As much as he wanted to hate Donald Ressler, a part of him respected the man. Maybe that was the real reason he wanted to hate him.

"Different circumstances," he agreed after a moment, finally letting his eyes drift open, but he was staring straight ahead, almost through the other man. "I bounced around the foster system a lot as a kid. Never stayed in good homes long because most of the time they didn't know what to do with me. Never stayed in bad homes long because I was a runner. The longest I stayed in one place in the eleven years I was in the system was the last one. I was there right around two years. It was a house with a bunch of kids in it, but I guess they didn't look close at it. I don't know. Maybe Douglas just had someone paid off. I don't know." He sniffed, sitting a little further back in the chair and his jaw clenched in a small sign of agitation. "Tony Douglas, the guy that ran it, drank a lot. Beat the hell out of us. Some of us. He liked others. Guess I was just unlucky." He looked up to find Ressler watching him silently. "One night he took a swing at me and instead of just ducking I shoved him down the stairs. He snapped his neck somewhere on his way down. I took his wallet, his keys, and I ran. Never looked back."

"That wasn't your fault though, you were just defending yourself from a man who had no business with kids. You know that right?" Ressler looked at him, not with sympathy, but perhaps with understanding. "And the system failed you. No wonder…," Ressler trailed off shaking his head.

"No wonder I turned out how I did?" Jacob chuckled mirthlessly. "Listen, I know what I am. At fourteen I would have broken his neck if he'd survived the fall. Bud used to tell me I was a survivor. Now… I don't know. Maybe. I did survive, so I guess it's true, but part of me thinks the social workers were right. I just don't care about people very much." Two faces flickered across his thoughts, bringing a sort of warmth to him, and a very small smile to his lips as he corrected, "Well, not _most_ people." The words were leaving his mouth and he could hear his own voice speaking them, but everything in Jacob was rebelling against it. He shook his head, laughing a little at himself. "I'm never going drinking with you again."

"See I think that's bullshit. I've seen you with them. With Cooper. With Aram. Me," Ressler leaned his head back and looked up at the stars. "You had a messed up childhood. No denying that. But, you care. And that bastard deserved anything he got. Someone with authority should have stopped him. That should never have fallen on you." Ressler rubbed his eyes. "And yeah, drinking with you is bad for me. I find myself actually...oh I'm gonna be sick," Ressler said and Jacob laughed thinking he was joking but in two seconds flat Ressler was out of his seat and puking up the contents of his stomach all over his parent's backyard. Then he couldn't _stop_ laughing.

Jacob was shaking by the time Ressler groaned, sitting back up slowly and carefully and he swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. "Damn, man, I'm sorry," he chuckled, not sounding the least bit like it was true, even to his own ears.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve since he had nothing else. "All that booze, and nachos..and that gut punch, well it doesn't not make for a good combination. That and I was about to say something nice. That was the final straw."

"Listen, let's not go that far, alright," Jacob chuckled, slipping back in his seat so that he was slouched and a little more comfortable. He watched the other man who was looking just a little less miserable. "If you'd told me back then that I'd be friends with a cop - a _fed_ \- I never would have believed it." He stopped, catching the word and he watched as casually as he could muster to see if maybe it'd slipped past Ressler.

"Is that what you think we are?" Ressler questioned. His tone even. He looked over at Jacob and waited a beat before slapping him on the arm. "Thanks for having my back at the bar."

"Well, in my experience my friends tend to get me shot, so I hope not," Jacob answered with a cheeky grin. "You too. Pretty sure you got that shiner showing up there from the jerk that nearly took my head off from behind."

"Well, I did sort of throw the first punch so it was my fault we were in that mess. Was the least I could do." He sighed loudly then stood up. "I need to brush my teeth. And shower. My mother will be upset if I didn't tell you to make yourself at home. Just lock the door when you come in." Ressler didn't wait for a response but slipped back in the house leaving Jacob all alone. After a moment he shook his head and stood, moving towards the house.

* * *

TBC

Notes: So glad you guys are liking it!

Next time - Ressler and Jacob approach Tommy Markin while Mikey and Mary get some unexpected visitors.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

"You get that this is what I've done most of my life, right?" Jacob asked, quirking an eyebrow. "He won't recognize me because he doesn't know me. You walk up next to me and it's like a neon-sign announcing our plans. Just… take a seat over there, keep your cap pulled down, and trust me."

"You get that I've been working on this all my adult life? It's hard to sit on the sidelines," Ressler grumbled as stormed to get out of sight.

Jacob rolled his eyes a little before slipping into a neutral expression, keeping his footsteps light so that he didn't startle the man sitting with his back to him. He was dressed in a nice suit and sipping on a coffee while speaking irritably into the phone. Whatever was going on, he wasn't happy about it.

The former operative plastered a smile on his face and stepped around into his line of sight just as he ended the call. "Councilman Markin? Hi, Chris Smith from the Post. Your office said that there was a mixup with the interview time and gave me this location."

Markin looked stared at his outstretched hand like he was crazy and Jacob just kept on smiling. "The interview? On how you've turned this city around? I talked to your assistant and he said that he'd talked to you about this…."

"Oh, yeah," Markin said obviously still not sure what was going on but not about to let an opportunity to pat himself on the back in print go by.

"Looks like the whole things been one big misunderstanding. Hopefully the article comes out a little better, yeah? You've got some real fans amongst our editors. Now, you were a Detroit Police Officer before joining the political arena, right? Cleaning up the streets with a badge to cleaning up the streets through policies. You really have done a lot for Detroit."

"Yeah retired from the force after putting in 25 years. And I'm on my second term as councilman. I love this city but the crime and corruption is running rampant," Markin replied

"I hear you," Jacob answered, scribbling on a notepad. "And you've been crucial to it on so many levels. We really want to dive into that, you know. I mean, there's the drug trade, the arms deals that have been more recent." He glanced up, finding Markin's gaze steadily on him, eyes narrowed a little. "But what we really want to know more about, Councilman Markin, is David Ressler's murder."

Markin was staring at him now. "I'm sorry, what?"

"David Ressler. He was your partner, right? He was murdered. That must have been tough for you. Did that fuel your fight in this city?"

"Yeah, Dave was my partner," Markin snapped then caught himself and tried to plaster a calm look on his face. "I haven't had an interviewer bring him up in years. Why the sudden interest?"

Jacob flashed him his most charming grin. "Oh, you know. Everyone likes a good story." His gaze shifted, looking around for all available exits as he spoke. "Especially ones like yours. A man _so_ dedicated to making this city safe… willing to do anything. My question is, I guess, what having David Ressler murdered did to make this city safe, or did it just make sure _your_ career wouldn't be touched." He looked the man across the table from his square in the eye, all pretenses falling away as he waited for the inevitable reaction.

In an instant, Tommy Markin's entire demeanor changed. He was a big guy. Tall. Took care of himself. And when he kicked his chair out from under him and stood up to face Jacob, he realized just how tall he was. "Who the hell are you? You aren't a reporter."

"Wow, give the man an award," Jacob chuckled, keeping his seat and his smile. "Who I am doesn't matter. What I know does, and what I know could put you away for a long time. Hell, might do more than that if certain people got ahold of the information." He sat back, his gaze hardening dangerously. "Sit down, Markin, and you might have a chance of getting out of this alive."

Markin waited a moment or two but eventually sat down. He ran his hand through his hair then set a hard look at Jacob. "I haven't made it as far as I have to be intimidated by a little shit like you. So, get the point. What do you think you know?"

"And I haven't made it as far as _I_ have with the people I've made it with by putting all my cards out on the table at once," Jacob answered easily. "But you, man, you've got a lot in your closet. Your partner's just the tip of the iceberg. What he _found_. Damn." The bluff rang out as truth easily enough. He may not have known every detail about Ressler's father's murder, but he knew enough that he had to have some real dirt on this asshole for him to have risked killing him over it. It had been a risky move and by this point, Markin must have been sure it had paid off.

"What do you want?" the other man growled.

"I want in. Me and my partner. We want in on what you have going right now."

"And why would I want to risk that? Based off what, a possible bluff? No, man." Markin laughed. "I don't think so."

"Cool, man. I get it. I'll just see what the feds think about your business in the arms trade. Or the fact that you have connections with Chuck Tanner in the gang that's been moving the big guns through the city. I mean, it would just be speculation if I didn't have photographs ready to send out to a connection over at the FBI unless I stop them from sending, but damn if those photos don't lie. Did you really think that you could move into that kind of business without jeopardizing everything you've built? You should have stuck to the drug trade, man."

Markin leaned forward. "You little punk." He shook his head. "If you are stupid enough to try to get in on something I may or may not be involved in then you know the risks. I'm not saying anything else until I meet your partner. "

"You already know him," Jacob answered easily, glancing back to where Ressler sat with his back to them and listening to the whole exchange. He hoped to everything the man was everything Liz swore he was, otherwise she'd be attending both of their funerals instead of yelling at them for being stupid over dinner.

Ressler stood up and approached the two men. "Hey, there Tommy. Long time, huh?"

"Donnie?" Markin leaned back in his seat. "What game are you playing at here?" He looked to Jacob. "He's a fed. You think I haven't kept up on him?"

Jacob smirked. "Yeah, well, he's apparently learned what his old man didn't. You have to bend the rules a little to get where you want to go. Donnie here is a dirty cop, just on a bigger scale than you ever had a chance to be. Where do you think I got the intel, Tommy? I'm his CI. I hand him enough for a promotion and he makes sure that whatever I have my hands in at the moment stays off the fed's radar. He can do the same for you if you're smart enough to let him."

The dark haired man could almost feel the underlying anger at the words about his father, but as best as he could tell out of his peripheral vision it didn't show on Ressler's face. Instead of looking directly, though, he stayed focus on Markin so that he felt the pressure of the decision. "Think fast, Tommy boy, because that intel I have on you? It's set to shoot off to the feds in half an hour. I mean, you could kill us I guess," he chuckled lightly, "but then you'd have to stop it. Find it first, then stop it. I'm willing to bet my life you can't. Are you?"

"Mikey know you aren't on the up and up?" Markin barked. "He goes around telling anyone who will listen what a good man his son is. What an honest man he is." Markin then began to smirk. "I do enjoy the irony though. Dave thought he was better than me. Mikey thinks he's better than me. Imagine the disappointment when they found the boy they raised is dirty. Mikey will be ruined in this town and your dad...wherever he is soul went will be so ashamed."

Jacob snorted, cutting off any response Ressler might have given. He might get it for not running this past him later, but it would be worth it. "Really? A dead man is going to be ashamed? Okay. Do we have a deal or don't we?"

Markin bristled at his tone. "Where you from, kid?"

"Chicago."

"Thought so. Subtle, but it's there. Bet you've lived a little bit of everywhere, huh? Seen a lot? You've won this round, but I'd watch my back if I were you."

"We want a meet with Tanner. This afternoon."

"Can't be done."

"Make it happen. Otherwise those files get sent off and we leave your fate in the hands of the cops. You've got nothing on us and we've got everything on you."

Markin glared at Ressler. "I knew you were nothing but trouble since the day I laid eyes on you kid," he grumbled. "You wanna swim with the big fish, do you?"

"You're nothing compared to some of the guys we've dealt with," Ressler laughed. "Look, I'm not some naive fed looking to make a few bucks. I've been running this little set up with my friend here for a while now. My pops...maybe you did...maybe you didn't have a hand in his death. That was then. This is now. Now, I want in." Ressler's eyes shifted, Jacob noticed, and his voice was laced with something he couldn't quite place. "You either set up the meet, or so help me God, all that you have built will come crashing down on you."

Well, it didn't look like Liz's faith was misplaced. It rarely was.

Markin squared his shoulder. "Fine. I'll set the meet. You boys got a number I can reach you at?"

Jacob offered him a smile. "No, but you do."

The older man snorted. "You've run a lot of games, haven't you?" he asked as he handed him a business card that he scribbled a different number on the back of .

"Is that what you think this is?"

"I think you're in over your head, kid."

Ressler glanced at Jacob for a brief moment then turned to Markin. "It's a little past 9." He looked at his watch. "When he calls you at noon you better have that meet set up."

"Look at that, little Donnie Ress, finally grew a set." Markin chuckled. "You two asked for this so I hope you are both willing to suffer any consequences that may come from this meet."

"How about you just worry about yourself, Tommy," Ressler snapped.

Jacob chuckled, his smile sliding back into place and at odds with the words that left his lips. "You screw us on this and you'll want the cops to be the ones to show up at your door." He stood, tapping the table. "Keep your phone on ya."

* * *

Ressler was still fuming. It had been a few hours since the meet with Markin and he still couldn't get over what Tom pulled. Either he had it planned from the get go or he just decided last minute to go with that tactic, but a heads up would have helped. He wasn't very happy about it all. And it killed him to talk to Markin like his father death meant nothing when it meant everything. He was the man he was today because of his father's death.

"I still can't believe you man," Ressler hissed as they pulled into the driveway to his family home. They had been going back and forth since they left Markin a few hours ago. "That was...for you not to tell me that was where you going? You're an ass." He got out of the car and headed to the house with Tom following.

"Man, I told you, I read the situation and went with it. Sometimes you just have to do that. I _trusted_ that you'd go with it. That has to count for something, right?"

"You...the man who makes cracks at me for screaming fed...trusted me to play along?" Ressler shook his head as he opened the door. "Did it kill you just a little that I didn't screw it up for us?"

"You know what, my wife trusts you. I put some faith in…" Tom's voice trailed off and his hand went to the small of his back and returned with a gun that Ressler didn't even want to know how he'd gotten through security at the airport.

The thought only flickered when he turned to see what had brought on the reaction. The house he'd grown up in was in shambles. Furniture tipped over, picture frames shattered, and he felt his chest tighten dangerously as his gaze focused in on the bullet holes in the far wall.

"Are you armed?" Tom's voice jolted him out of the shock.

Ressler wanted to make a snide comment about him not going anywhere unless he was carrying, but now wasn't the time. He simply pulled his shirt up and revealed his concealed carry weapon. It was in his hand in an instant. He knew Mikey was the same. He prayed those bullet holes were from Mikey.

The two men moved forward through the house, the destruction in all directions. They had put up a fight.

A sharp noise drew their attention and Ressler looked over to see Tom nod as they moved silently down the hall towards it. A door stood open and he could see a man with a gun standing over Mikey. Tom frowned deeply and shook his head. "No clean shot," he mouthed and glanced over to the far window as they pulled back so they could speak quietly without alerting the thug in the room. "You want to play distraction for me to get the shot or you want to go around and take it?"

Ressler didn't respond. Tom may not have seen a clean shot but he wasn't messing around. His father's life was in danger. In that moment none of the crap in their past mattered. Mikey was his father as much as David Ressler was. He leaned around the door, took a deep breath, aimed and watched as the man fell to the ground.

Tom made a small sound of surprise as Ressler moved into the room. "I'll clear the rest house. You get them out," he managed after a second and turned to do just that.

Mary's eyes widened and her voice was muffled by the duct tape over her mouth. Ressler eased it off as carefully as he could. "There were more than just him," she managed.

Ressler quickly moved to Mikey who was on the ground, unmoving. His face was bloody and it was apparent he took a beating. He held his breath as he checked for a pulse and released his breath once he felt one. He was just knocked out. Gently, pulling the tape off his mouth Ressler looked to his mother. "He's ok. Did they hit him on the head or anything?"

"Yeah, with the butt of the gun. He was putting up a fight." Mary looked at him with pained eyes. "What did you bring into this home, Donnie?"

Ressler frowned deeply, but the sound of gunshots drew his attention and he pulled his mother to the ground, her yelp of surprise the only sound that followed it.

"I told you he wasn't the only one," she said shakily.

"How many more, Ma?" he asked. If Mikey was out he wasn't getting them out of this room anytime soon.

"I saw the two that took us back here but heard at least another voice. They left that guy with us when they heard the car pull up."

Ressler noticed the desk and wondered if Mikey still kept a gun locked in the drawer. He moved to it and found his mother at his side. He opened the drawer and handed her the small gun safe. She entered the correct numbers and it unlocked. "Go," she said quietly and kissed him on the forehead. "No one is getting through that door."

He nodded and darted out the door. There hadn't been any gunshots to follow the first, but as he rounded the corner and shot out the backdoor that Tom would have left through, he heard the sound of a struggle. Ressler moved towards it, gun gripped tightly in his hand, and found his partner's husband in the side yard with a man that made him look small. The two had gone a couple rounds at each other already, from the looks at it, and Tom kicked out hard, his boot colliding with the other man's knee, and he took him to the ground. Where his gun had gone, Ressler could only guess, but he moved to wrap an arm around the attacker's neck from behind, his expression focused.

"No, don't!" Ressler yelled. If he didn't stop Tom this man would be dead and while he wouldn't care he wanted to ask some questions. His gun was raised and aimed at the man in Tom's hold. "He's the only one left," he added.

Tom loosed his grip on the man and he sagged down against the grass, the smaller man taking a stumbling step back from him and running his hand across his face to wipe at the blood from his nose. "I wasn't going to kill him," he managed, though he didn't sound like he entirely believed that himself. "Just wasn't going to give him the chance to kill me. Your folks alright?"

"Yeah. Sure. I've seen that look." Ressler didn't want to say he say it in Liz. When her legs were wrapped around the Deer Hunter's neck while she was strung up. "Mikey is knocked out cold. Couldn't move them out of the house but my Ma's good. No one is getting through that door alive."

"Good," Tom breathed, seeming to come down off of his focus that had nearly killed the man. He winced and nudged the man with his boot. "C'mon, sunshine. You don't get a long nap."

The man groaned and glared, starting to sit up but Ressler stepped forward with his gun aimed.

"Ah uh, I wouldn't do that just yet." Ressler nodded to the house. "Zip ties and duct tape are in the garage."

He was going to allow Tom to do whatever he had to so extract any information this hitman, for lack of a better word, had. They came after his family. And it wasn't going to be tolerated. And it smelled of Tommy Markin.

Tom looked like he was trying to gauge if he really meant what he thought he meant and he shrugged. "You need to call an ambulance for… well, guess not."

Ressler turned around to see his mother and step-father coming out the back of the house. Mikey still looked a little woozy from the blow to the head, but he was focused on getting to them. He took one look at the man and then at both Ressler and Tom. "Garage."

Tom blinked hard. "Not what I was expecting," he murmured and the man at their feet gave another groan that caused him to stoop down, taking him up by his collar. "You heard the man. Time to find out exactly what you know."

"Someone is bound to have called in for those shots," Ressler said and at the same time he heard Mikey on his phone.

"Hey, it's Mike Finnegan, I was wondering if there were any calls to my house?" He rattled off the address. "Yeah, that's what I thought. My idiot kid...yeah Donnie," he laughed "accidentally discharged a weapon while cleaning it. Ha, you'd think he'd know better. Thanks."

"Idiot kid, huh?" Ressler grumbled. "And here I was worried my dad was hurt. Guess not." He realized what he called Mikey. And if anyone else caught the slip they didn't say.

Between the three of them they hauled the half-conscious thug up and to the garage, getting him tied to a chair firmly. Mary lingered back by the door, looking uncomfortable with the entire situation. "And now what?" she asked, her voice quiet and tense.

"Now he tells us all about what happened and who he works for," Tom answered, his expression cold. "Isn't that right, buddy? Pretty sure your boss didn't give you fair warning when he sent you in."

"I ain't telling you shit," the thug spat.

Mikey moved forward and suckered punched him. "You weren't sent to scare us. You were sent to kill us. You messed with the wrong family pal." Mikey went off and hit him a few more times before Ressler pulled him off. "You were supposed to find us dead," he said to Ressler. "I warned you, Don."

Ressler turned a hard glare on the thug, ready to argue, but Tom cut him off. "There's no changing what's happened now. It just means we don't have a choice but to finish this."

"And then what?" Mary asked from the door. "You've told the police that-"

Tom snorted. "The cops that Markin has in his pocket? Yeah. They'd have been a _ton_ of help."

"Trust me, Ma. This goes against everything I believed in at one point, but this is the only way." Ressler's voice was soft. "Keep the gun with you and go back inside, please."

"How sweet," the thug said when Mary left. "So, we got old man, and what? Good cop, bad cop? How you think this is gonna work?"

Tom smirked. "Yeah, not a cop, buddy. I don't play by their rules."

"Could have fooled me. You telling me you were holding back on me out there?" the bigger man chuckled. "Could have saved yourself a broken nose."

"Nah, you didn't break it." Without warning Tom's hand popped out and they heard a crack followed immediately by a muffled sound of pain from the man tied to the chair. " _That_ is a broken nose. Now you can start talking or we can find what other bones we can break. Your call."

"Screw you man," the thug hissed as blood ran down his face. "You're a fed. You gonna let him do this?"

Ressler shrugged. "Not a fed today. I'm just a son who almost lost his parents today. You go after them...well my friend here is very skilled in causing pain and I'm sure the old man would like a crack at you too. Make it easy on yourself."

The man looked between Ressler, Tom, and Mikey before swallowing hard. "He'll kill me, man."

"He might," Tom answered flippantly, "or I will. I'd say your odds are better if you choose us though. We already know it was Markin. All we have to do is let you go and make it clear you talked and he _will_ kill you, you're right. You think he'll give you the chance to explain?"

"What do you want to know?" the man asked roughly.

* * *

TBC

Notes: Well, this story may have officially become an AU. It was written before 3.18, so before we got a name for Tom and Liz's little girl and also before her death (which I'm still pretty convinced is fake, but hey), so for those that are just reading, that's why the kiddo's name is Hope and not Agnes.

Next time - Tom and Ressler go after Tommy Markin.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

"So, what is your plan, exactly? There is a dead man in Mikey's office and another in my dinning room. Oh, and don't forget about the guy with a broken nose tied up in my garage," Mary questioned. Jacob could tell she was rattled but doing her best to hide it.

"Tommy Markin sent them here to send a message to me." Ressler leaned up against the wall in the living room. "He called our bluff."

"Dammit, Donnie," Mary snapped. "You were supposed to back off all that. You promised me."

Jacob sat back, watching the exchange. He never had a mother who cared like Mary did and it was interesting to watch them. Mikey leaned against the opposite wall with his hands jammed in his pocket watching as well. That man, he had been a surprise. Jacob assumed he would be a by the books kind of cop until he told them to get the garage. It was then he knew Mikey Finnegan was the kind of guy willing the bend the rules to get the results he needed. But, he didn't for a second think he had anything to do with Ressler's father's death.

"I'm not just going to let him get away with killing dad." Ressler looked over at Mikey. "And this one, he knows something. You know something."

Jacob looked over to Mike who met his step-son's gaze steadily. There was indecision in his eyes for just a moment before he loosed a long breath. "I'll make you a deal, Don," he said seriously. "You call for backup and I've got something that might help."

"What backup?" Jacob said from his place. "There's no telling which cops are dirty and which are just incompetent."

Mikey shot him a glare at the jab that he really hadn't meant as one. It was just true in his own mind. "Then call the feds. Your buddies in DC or the ones here, I don't care. Just as long as it's not the two of you running in to get yourselves killed. You've got the resources, Donnie. Use 'em."

"Yeah." Ressler nodded. "I can get assistance from the Detroit Field Office. I have wiggle room with the unit I work on." He looked at Jacob. "We may get an earful from Cooper when he finds out."

"I still haven't heard what you are doing about the dead bodies." Mary looked to Jacob. "You got any ideas?"

"Deep body of water with weights or remote areas where no one will notice dirt turned over are usually the best options," Jacob mused and blinked hard at the look he received for the casual answer. "What? She asked."

Mikey stared at him. "Who the hell are you? And don't give me that bullshit about a school teacher."

Jacob flashed an innocent grin. "Actually was, but yeah, I have a bit more varied resume than that. You said something about something that might help?"

"I didn't give it to you sooner because it's our insurance policy, Don. I've kept in hopes if you ever went poking your nose it would be enough to keep Markin from killing you. I don't think it's enough to take him down but coupled with other evidence," Mikey offered. He ignored Mary when she asked what he was talking about and wandered away. He came back with a leather journal and handed it to Ressler. "I'm not a perfect guy Donnie. I wasn't the kind of cop your dad was. He was lived and breathed the badge. He was the real deal. Me, I was a cheap imitation. I did things he wasn't happy about. But, I wasn't dirty like Markin. I roughed perps up more than necessary to get a confession. But, I wasn't like Markin."

"I know." Ressler took the book from Mikey. "And I'm sorry."

"Donnie, you're a grown man. You don't need me telling you how to live, but I'm asking you, because whatever you believe I do love you like my own… I just need you to remember that killing this man won't bring your dad back. You're looking for justice, Don, not vengeance."

"I know nothing will bring him back. But how many others have lost someone because of Markin? I'm not setting out to kill him. I want to stop him. It's up to him how it ends." Ressler took a step to his mom and gave her a hug. "I am sorry I brought this to you. I have to end it though."

Mary kissed her son on the head. "Be safe? Don't get yourself killed." She moved to Jacob and sat next to him. "And you. Thank you for backing up my son. Don't be stupid though. You have a wife and a child at home. Don't leave them like David left us." She patted Jacob on the arm. "You boys be safe and come back when it's over."

Jacob blinked in surprise. "Yeah," he said tightly, surprised that his own voice was a little unsteady. He tried for a cheeky smile. "I'll get him home by dinner." He turned his gaze over towards Ressler. "Let's figure out what your dad left us and get this son of a bitch."

Ressler nodded but before he could say anything Mikey spoke up. "Yeah, don't worry about the dead bodies or the guy we have tied up," sarcasm was dripping off him. "No worries, I'm sure your mom is OK with being an accessory." He turned to Mary. "Mare, grab the chainsaw and some plastic tarps. We have work to do."

"Mikey…," Ressler began.

"I know what needs done." He looked his step son on the guy. "We have this covered. You and him, go finish this."

Jacob kept his mouth shut as he watched Ressler stare at his step father for a long moment before turning towards the door. He followed him out and waited until they were at the car before he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words and coming up short. He was so used to working with people who were accustomed to this life. He'd grown up with people that could hide a body in their sleep, and the task force worked with the likes of Reddington, so it wasn't like there weren't a few bodies buried here and there that linked to various cases. It was a little strange to see what seemed like a very normal couple dragged into the mess though, and even stranger that it was causing him to pause. "Do I, uh, need to go back and help while you set things up with the feds?" he offered awkwardly.

"That's up to you, but, uh...Mikey was a special operator with the military. He's done some things that make hiding a body look like child's play."

The dark haired man chuckled and paused at the passenger door, Ressler circling around with keys in hand. "As long as he doesn't have to hide mine because you kill me with your driving," he said with a smirk.

"Very funny," Ressler groaned yet wore a slight smile. "I'm usually one for going off without a plan. Might not to the best for this situation."

Jacob slipped into the passenger's seat. "Your dad left you that book for a reason, I'm guessing," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "He probably put a lot into the investigation before it got him killed. If we don't want to end up the same way. You trust the feds here?"

Ressler sighed."I don't know who I can trust to be honest. They are our best chance though. Too many locals were dirty back when my dad was here. I'm doubting much has changed. It's the bureau or nothing." He pointed to his dad's book in Jacob's lap. "Take a look and see what he has."

Jacob swallowed hard and looked to the leatherbound book in his lap. There was something strange about it, like it was sacred. He couldn't help but think about Ressler's face as they had hunkered down in the cabin in the middle of the woods, Solomon's men ready to put a round of bullets through them and lay them out. He had told him the secret that had started this fiasco and damn it all if he probably didn't regret it to at least some degree now. Slowly, carefully, he pried the book open, seeing scrawled handwriting. He felt like he was reading something personal. Like a diary or something. It was something someone like him shouldn't have had. If it had belonged to someone else, to a mark, he might not have had a problem with it, but somehow Ressler had inched closer and closer to the category of friend. He didn't know exactly how that had happened and he wouldn't dare admit it - not sober, anyway - but the man was working his way through his guards without Jacob consciously wanting him to. He was just supposed to be Liz's partner. Liz's friend. She was always supposed to be between them. He could always keep him at a distance that way. He worked better when people were at a distance.

"I...I can't look at it yet," Ressler admitted. "Crazy right? After all this time you'd like I'd be itching to see what it's in there. But..," he paused. "I can't." He laughed bitterly. "How messed up is that."

"I've heard worse," Jacob murmured, his voice a little softer than it usually was. He pulled in a breath and forced himself to focus in, shutting out the emotional response and approaching the situation like a job. Funny, it used to be so much easier for him to do that. His fingers felt stiff as he flipped through the pages, his own voice a little distant to his ears. "This thing's pretty old, but criminals form up habits. If they find someone they trust, they'll use them again and again. " He ignored the look Ressler shot him, as if he were about to remind him that he was a criminal too, no matter how hard he was trying to stay on the right path lately. Instead he kept talking. "Take the Major for example. He's used the same set of forgers for the last decade or more. Why? He knew them. He trusts them. They weren't going to snitch on him, and he worked in a much larger arena than Markin does. Detroit's big, but I bet you that he has a few people in here that he'd go to when things get tough. People to fall back on if he gets caught."

"Makes sense," Ressler said as he raised his eyebrow. "I don't want to but I really should give Cooper a heads up before calling the Detroit field office. They may contact him to confirm what I'm up to." He paused. "We use that book if things go south at the meet."

Jacob nodded. "Full disclaimer, Liz is going to kill us both when she finds out exactly what we're up to."

He watched the other man give a mirthless smirk and pull his phone out to dial. They were in for a hell of a run.

* * *

Ressler surveyed the abandoned location. They'd gotten a warning to them somehow. Markin was gone. He felt the frustration take hold, boiling up inside of him to the point that he was nearly shaking. He didn't even hear Tom approach from behind.

"Hey, your local guys say they're long gone. My guess is they spooked them or there was someone on the inside. I know we told your step-dad we'd work with them to get Markin, but Ressler…." He breathed out a long breath. "We can't trust them. I've narrowed it down to who I'd reach out to if I were this dirtbag. I have a couple of different people that he's probably more likely to go to, but you know these guys. This is your city. If you want him…. I think it needs to be just us. Otherwise someone'll just tip him off again."

Ressler hated to admit it but Tom was right. Damn. He was right. He tried doing it the right way by talking to Cooper then the local field office. And still, that rat slipped away. It wasn't the first time the system failed him. But, if Tom thought he knew where Markin would go then he was willing to trust him. To trust him to lead him to his father's killer. To trust him to cover his ass. The act of trusting Tom was not something he would have imagined doing before but now...now Tom was the only person he'd want by his side. That scared him.

"You lead the way," Ressler said as he tossed Tom the keys.

The other man caught them, but the hesitation came after. He watched him, as if studying and trying to decide something. Whatever it was, he seemed to make his decision and nodded, handing over the book. "This is the most likely go-to. If I were him, this would be the one I'd go to." He paused, a strange and serious look flashing across his expression. "You ready to get the guy that killed your dad?"

Ressler just gave him a look. There were no words for how ready he was to give his dad justice. Instead he took his eye off the book and turned to Tom. "This goes south, I can't guarantee I can get you out of any trouble we may run into. I don't care what happens to me but you have a wife and kid. So, before we do this...are you sure?"

Tom offered a small smile that Ressler was fairly certain was real. "Liz cares about you a lot, you know that? You are her… you're her partner. Her best friend. I can't go home and look her in the eye if I walk away now." He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he started to undo the velcro on his vest the FBI had forced him into when they had stormed the abandoned warehouse looking for Markin, grumbling under his breath about hating the thing before looking up at Ressler. "Man, there was a day I could have walked right now. I miss those days." He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "Somehow you've managed to mean something. I swear though, man, if I die helping you, I'm coming back to haunt you."

Ressler wanted to comment about the vest but kept it to himself. Tom was a grown man who could make his choices. However stupid not wearing the Kevlar while going after a ruthless, cold blooded maniac. No, instead he chuckled. "Wouldn't need to. I'll be dead with you by Liz's hands if you don't come home in one piece. I think we've had enough Oprah moments, don't you? Let's roll."

The drive was silent between them, Tom's eyes focused on the road. They pulled up to an old office building that, if it were still in use, didn't look like it had anyone reputable inside of it. Tom killed the engine and reached for his gun, checking it, and turning a studying gaze up to it. "Any preference on how you want to go at him?"

Ressler had a feeling deep in his gut that this would end with blood spilt. He prayed it wasn't theirs but he knew Markin would not be taken in willingly. He would fight. So, Ressler looked forward. Having an internal battle with himself. Should he lie and tell Tom he felt the best course of action was to go and try to reason with Markin. Convince him to come willing? Or should he tell Tom what he truly wanted to do was to just go in guns blazing and take out that murderous bastard. There were days he really hated having a conscious. Today was one of them.

"A bullet between the eyes?" he finally offered before turning to Tom. Then he chuckled bitterly. "We take him down and that's a win for my dad. But...I have to try the way he'd want me to. I have to try to take Marlin in and take his whole little organization down too. How do I do that when all I want to do is kill him on sight?"

Tom's lips thinned out and he offered a very small smile. "I'm not the guy to ask that," he murmured. "I'm the guy that puts the bullet between the other guy's eyes when it comes to it. Less so, these days, but…"

Ressler snorted, not sure if the dark haired man was offering to do the deed for him or what.

"We try to get evidence to take them all down. If that doesn't work," Ressler paused as he checked his own weapon. "I won't hesitate to take him down myself."

Tom gave a short nod. "My guess, from everything I've seen with this guy, is that he'll have a small group with him. Hired thugs, but small enough that they won't talk and spread his name around. He'll hope to get out of this somehow. If it were me-" his gaze drifted over the facade of the building - "I'd take an internal room, second floor, close to the stairwell. That way no one could get a sniper shot in at me, I'd have time to see and hear where anyone was coming from, and get to an escape before they got there. We can go at it together or we can split and make sure he doesn't get down whatever stairwell is opposite. Your call."

"We split. He's not getting away." Ressler took a deep breath. "You find him first...just try not to kill him until I get to talk to him?"

"Do my best," the other man promised. "See you in the middle. Try not to get yourself killed, huh?" And then he was gone, disappearing into the southern stairwell.

* * *

The building was silent and Jacob watched the walls carefully to see cameras that would never have been installed in a place like this. They had the right place.

He slipped through the hall and into the stairwell, taking full advantage of every blind spot that he could. He barely breathed for a moment as one camera swiveled left to right and back left again, as if waiting for him to make one wrong move. Carefully he screwed the suppressor onto the end of his gun. Stealth was more important than absolute accuracy at this point.

A sound caught his attention up above and he ducked down, waiting. Voices could be heard above and he strained his hearing. He recognized one. Markin. They were on the move. Jacob pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and texted the update to Ressler as quickly as he could. They would have the advantage of shooting from above, but he'd have surprise, and, if he were lucky, Ressler as quick backup.

The first of Markin's bodyguards came into view and Jacob took the shot, sending the man falling down the stairs as he slipped back around, pressing his back against the wall as a shot pinged close to where he'd been. He blinked hard, pulled a deep breath in, and exhaled as he swiveled around to take another shot.

He only clipped the second one, but he could hear Markin starting up the stairs. "Dammit," he swore, hoping that Ressler would hear the commotion. The shots stopped and he took that to mean that the anyone left standing with Markin had started their retreat upward. They were likely going to try to outrun them to another level and take another stairwell down.

Jacob cursed again, halfway wishing he'd kept the damn vest that the FBI had forced on him. He hated those things. They limited his movement and he always felt slower in them. A little slower might be preferable now.

The bullets didn't fly like he expected them to as he started up the stairs, boots hitting the metal without care for the noise they made. A door slammed up above hard, signalling at least one of them had gone through it. Jacob didn't have time to check his phone to see if Ressler had gotten the message, but he did pause on the second floor landing. The stairwell had gone silent and he grit his teeth. Well, Ressler would have to figure it out. Contrary to what he'd originally thought about the man, he was pretty bright. It wouldn't take much.

He got three steps up towards the next floor when the shot rang out from above and he heard a sharp yell bounce off of the walls. It took half a moment and the fact that he had stumbled back against the wall to realize it had been him. His gun clattered to the floor and his footing slipped, sending him crashing hard to the stairs and down until he was laid out against them. His world pulsed dangerously, the pain spreading from his right shoulder and his left hand came away sticky and wet with blood. Great. He'd have matching bullet holes for each shoulder now. _Just_ what he needed.

"Donnie should have left you out of this."

Jacob forced himself to look up, finding Markin on the next set of stairs up with his gun aimed directly at him. He shoved the palm of his hand hard against the stair, forcing himself up as the bullet dug into the wall next to where he'd been, but he found himself stumbling onto the landing and hitting hard. He wasn't getting back up right away.

He looked back, blinking hard at the shadows hedging his vision and saw Markin making his way down the stairs towards him.

* * *

Ressler made his way slowly and quietly up the stairwell. He never liked going into these things blind and with limited back up but it was what is was. He did his best to avoid the cameras in the stairwell and when he reached the second floor to clear it that's when he heard the shots. Not caring one bit about the cameras now he swiftly cleared his way through the hallway on his way to Tom's stairwell when he heard a door open and heavy steps above him. That person was not getting away.

He moved back towards the stairwell he just came from and went up to the third floor. He opened the door only to come face to face with what he could only assume was one of Markin's bodyguards. He felt the man's fist connect with his face and he reeled back for a moment. Then he heard the shot and the yell. He recognized that sound. Tom had been hit. And that stupid SOB didn't have a vest on. He lashed out and flung the the bodyguard, the two of them slamming to the ground. Ressler landed a few swift punched to the man's head when another bodyguard came rushing towards them. Lifting his gun he ordered the man to stop so when he continued Ressler fired two shots. One the chest and one to the head.

"How many more?" he hissed to the man he had pinned. Gun pointed to his temple.

"Just Markin. It was only the three of us."

"Don't lie to me!" He screamed.

"You'll find one more not far from Markin. Got your pal pinned in the hall."

Ressler didn't speak another word. He knocked the man out cold and raced down the hall. When he reached the door he slowly opened it just an inch and found the final bodyguard. He slipped back out and made a noise to draw the man out. When the door opened he waited in room across the hall for him to enter. Two bullets later and the man was down.

"Give it up, Markin!" Ressler screamed as he moved towards the doorway. "You're all alone now!"

"I have your friend, Donnie! I'll put another hole in him if you make one more move down here!"

Ressler shook his head. "I just want to talk. I'm coming down!"

Markin had his gun aimed at Tom who was slumped up against the wall, his left hand pressed just under his collar bone to try to stem the bleeding. His right arm hung useless next to him and he was doing his best to glare dangerously at the man that was threatening to kill him. In that moment he didn't look like he could make good on any of his threats. His gaze shifted past Markin and towards Ressler as he descended the stairs, as if waiting to see what he'd do.

"So, what's the plan Tommy? You kill him thinking it's going to make me what? Give up? Let you live?" Ressler hated saying this considering everything Tom had done for him but Markin couldn't know Ressler's weakness. "You think I care about him? He's an asset. That's all. He led me to you and now I want answers. What you do to him is of no consequence to me."

There was the briefest flash of pain through Tom's eyes, but that could have been from the bullet lodged in his shoulder. He snorted and it was gone in an instant. "Dumb move, Markin. If you could have picked the one person the Boy Scout here would find expendable, it's me. Well done."

"Shut up," Marking growled, waving the gun at the dark haired man. "You think I believe this shit, Donnie? I'll put a bullet in his head, then-"

"Then he'll shoot you," Tom cut him off.

"I want answers Markin. All these years I've wondered. Just tell me. I'll let you leave just tell me. Why?" Ressler was struggling to keep calm. He wanted his answers but he wanted Markin dead now. One false move and Tom would pay for a fight that was never his.

"Your old man was an idiot, Donnie Boy," Markin chuckled. "He didn't get how this world worked. He was convinced things were black and white. Funny thing is that I don't think you learned a damn thing from life, have you? You're not going to risk me killing this guy, if he's your buddy or an asset, but you ain't going to kill me either, kid. You don't have it in you. You'll take me in, because that's what your personal code tells you to do. Thing is, you and I don't run by the same code and I'm not going to jail. So while your buddy bleeds out here, I bet you'll choose to try to help him rather than catch me."

Tom's eyes widened a little and Ressler saw him tense as Markin shifted his weight ever so slightly to take the shot.

The sound of a gun firing echoed through the stairwell and Markin let out a sharp cry, dropping his weapon. It'd barely clipped him, but the right cross to his jaw that Ressler gave him next snapped his head around, sending him stumbling. The younger man holstered his weapon and covered the space between them, grabbing him by the front of his tailored shirt. He'd been waiting for this moment for years and as he laid into the man, punch after punch, slamming into him and almost taking him down another flight of stairs at one point, he felt all of that rage come to a point.

Markin didn't just take the beating. He blocked several of the harder punches, swinging back around and knocking Ressler into the wall hard. The federal agent saw stars as his head collided with the concrete wall and the hard punch to the gut drove the breath out of him. He sagged for a brief moment, trying to gather himself, and just barely missed the next blow.

Ressler stepped around, Markin's punch finding the wall instead of him, but he didn't have time to relish the idea of how much that must have hurt the son of a bitch. Instead he found himself being driven to the floor by the larger man, hands around his neck and cutting his air off. He clawed at him, struggling to get up or to get a blow in that would drive the man back, but something else caught Markin's attention.

"Hey!" Tom's voice rang out and the pressure on Ressler's throat eased enough so that he could follow the sound. His partner's husband was bracing himself against the wall, Markin's dropped gun held unsteadily in his left hand. "Let him up or I'll put you down," he growled, the words coming out on shaky, pained breaths. Ressler wasn't sure he could shoot straight if he took the shot.

Markin snorted, giving Ressler a hard shove against the ground. "Looks like I'm killing your partner first."

Ressler knew that Markin had to assume he was out or close to it. Sure, the lack of oxygen had been an issue and his vision was slightly blurred but once he was on the ground and his airway free he was able to concentrate and focus. Markin thought he had the upper hand as he made a move to pick up Tom's discarded gun. Ressler tried to pull himself up but that wasn't happening. He could take the shot from there if needed. If Markin was stupid enough to try it. And he was.

"I bet you thought Donnie Boy here could save you. He's weak. Like his old man. And once I finish you off, I'll do to him what I had done to his old man," Markin taunted..

"Underestimating us is going to suck for you," Tom managed to chuckle. He took the shot and it fell wide, his arm trembling too bad to keep it steady.

Markin scooped up the discarded gun and turned it on him. "You won't be around to see it."

Ressler tried to steady his breathing so he wouldn't miss. He would have gone for the head shot but didn't want to risk missing. He wasn't going to let him fire off a shot at Tom. So, he steadied his aim and unloaded the remainder of his magazine into Markin's back. He watched as Markin dropped the gun then fell to his knees in front of Tom.

A smirk tilted Tom's lips up. "And that's why," he snarked, leaning heavily against the wall. He seemed to wait until Markin fell fully to the ground and stayed there before letting the gun drop from his bloody fingers and sliding back down to take a hard seat. He glanced up at Ressler. "You okay?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Ressler managed. He replaced his empty magazine with a full one, not positive they were out of the woods yet and made his way to Tom.

The other man gave a short chuckle, letting his head thump back against the wall behind him. "Well, I have a new hole in me, you nearly had your neck snapped in half, but Markin is dead. You feel better now?"

Ressler slumped down next to Tom. Did he feel better? His father's killer was dead. He could no longer hurt anyone. But, did he feel better? "Ask me later when I've had time to process," he offered instead of the truth. He didn't regret killing Markin if it meant saving both of their lives but taking a life never sat well with him, regardless of who it was. "I gotta call this in. You need medical attention."

Tom gave a loud sigh. "Liz is going to kill me. Maybe you too, but definitely me."

"Or she could see it as us bonding and be glad we didn't kill each other?" Ressler chuckled before pulling his phone out and making a call.

* * *

Jacob came around slowly, his eyes sliding open and the room coming into focus around him. Hospitals. He hated hospitals. More than that, he hated the reasons he landed in them. He tried to shift, feeling the pain dulled by medication, but his shoulder was immobilized as best as it could be, and he felt a hand against his forehead. He blinked up to find Liz shaking her head at him. "You just can't resist getting yourself into trouble, can you?" she grumbled softly.

He snorted a laugh before the realization struck. He'd seen her partner nearly choked to death by Markin before he'd gotten the gun up and killed the man that had murdered his father. There were blank spots before he'd finally passed out, but he remembered that much. He wasn't sure if the other man was injured badly or not. "Ressler okay?"

Liz glanced back towards the door. "I hope so," she said softly. "He's… We'll see. I should give you two a minute."

Jacob opened his mouth, but she was already gone, changing places with a certain ginger fed that was starting to show signs of the fight he'd been in. Bruising was starting to show around his eye and down his cheekbone, as well as around his neck where Markin had gotten ahold of him. He walked a little stiffly in, cup of coffee in his hand, and Jacob offered him a smirk. "You bring me one?"

"Liz would kill me, man," he joked. Ressler set the coffee down on the hospital tray. "How you doing?"

"I got shot. It hurts. Never _doesn't_ hurt," he grumbled, sinking back into his pillows a little more and trying to focus through the fog of the painkillers. Bits and pieces of what had happened flickered through his mind and he focused in on the man that he'd fought along side of not once, but twice now. A couple years ago he never would have thought it was possible that the man that he'd gotten into a shoving match with outside of Liz's car, the man that she'd pulled a gun on him to protect, would be someone he would have trusted, much less someone that he would have risked his own life to help find some peace. Things had changed so much - _he_ had changed so much - that sometimes it felt like two entirely different lifetimes. It had been a hell of a lot easier to hate Ressler, but he wasn't sure he'd choose to go back to that point even if he could. "I guess I owe you a thank you," he managed.

"No. I owe you one. You could have died just so I got my damn revenge. Because of me Hope and Liz almost lost you." Ressler jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'm terrible with this...but thank you. You had my back and for that...just...thank you."

The words sunk in slowly and Jacob shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well…. You saved my ass at the end of it, so let's call it even, huh? It all worked out in the end. You get what you need out of him?"

"Not exactly." He took a seat in Liz's vacated chair. "I mean I don't know what I really expected. Maybe some drawn out reason for it all? Not just my dad wouldn't play ball. The Bureau is currently searching his home and office along with the places and people listed in my dad's journal. The security cameras in the building were helpful for that but I'm in some hot water."

Jacob cringed. "How pissed is Cooper?" Ressler had done what he was supposed to, hadn't he? He'd called the FBI in on the first raid. So maybe he'd been a little slower to call on the second, but hey, Cooper knew that sometimes the rules needed to be bent a little. It wasn't like he'd called it in when Jacob had brought Karakurt to his house or when the Cabal had chased them all the way to the cabin. Surely he would have understood that if Ressler of all people thought the corruption was deep enough that it'd put an op in jeopardy there had to be something to it.

"He's pissed but he gets it. Problem is the head of the Detroit office isn't fond of someone coming into town and leaving bodies for him to clean up. I should have told him what we were up to. And…," Ressler sighed. "Someone high up really wants me to take a hit. Cooper assured me I'll be cleared and can get back to work but uh, if anyone comes talking to you I forced you in to this. You did not come along willing. Again, it's not exactly procedure to give an asset a weapon. This wasn't a Task Force investigation. Things would have been a bit neater if it were."

"Yeah, but something tells me Cooper would never have let you near it if you'd asked permission." Jacob shifted a little, weighing his next words. Ressler was giving him an easy out to keep himself out of any trouble and he should just take it, but there was something gnawing at him that he _really_ didn't like. "Listen, man, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but if I go telling these people you forced me into it they'll rip you to shreds, won't they? It's not like Cooper has any misconceptions over if I carry or not. Just have him classify the situation and we're all in the clear. That's kind of what you people do, isn't it?"

"He's trying but I've already made a mess of things here. My mom and Mikey are actually getting death threats over this and it hasn't even been 24 hours. I don't want my blind need for truth and justice to prevail to mess up what you and Liz have going on. I care too much for her and Hope to let my selfishness mess that up." Ressler took a deep breath. "I wish I could blame pain meds for my openness with you but that's not the case. It was easier when I hated you."

Jacob blinked, his mind working just a little slower than usual and finally piecing together what the other man was saying. He snorted and quirked a smile. "Careful, Ressler, or I'll get the impression you're actually starting to like me. Wouldn't want that spreading."

"God no. I've worked hard to maintain my reputation. Can't have you muddying it up."

The laugh that left him was real. "I think that you managed to muddy up the Boy Scout reputation pretty well this time. Look at what happens when you bend the rules a little. Things actually get done."

"I think we did a bit more than bend the rules," Ressler sighed. "My mother insisted Liz and Hope stay at the house. There are men vetted by Cooper watching the house so they will be safe. She's taken a liking to you three. And a heads up, she's persistent. I think she is unofficially adopting you." Ressler tapped the coffee cup. "And this may or may not be made to how you like it. I'm just gonna leave it right here." He stood up from his seat.

"Hey, Ress?" Jacob called, the nickname he'd heard Liz call him slipping off his tongue, causing the other man to turn back towards him. He swallowed hard. "Listen, I'm on a lot of medication and I swear if you repeat this to another soul outside of Liz I'll deny it completely, but… It was good working with you."

"Back at you," Ressler laughed.

Jacob reached carefully for the coffee cup with his left hand and brought it to his lips. "Better watch out or Cooper will figure out that we can actually work together and put me on more assignments with you. If you've been going around and calling me your asset on this whole thing and all." He smirked around the coffee lid and took a sip. Well, Ressler hadn't been lying. He really had gotten it how he liked his coffee. That was a little impressive.

"Oh, you thought I said asset? I was calling you an asshat all this time." Ressler smiled and tapped at his ear. "Might want a hearing test before you leave."

"Jackass," Jacob grumbled and tried for a glare that he was pretty sure didn't come across nearly as intimidating as he would have liked. It might have been easier to hate Donald Ressler and a hell of a lot smarter to keep distance between them, but he was starting to think he didn't want that. Liz had jokingly told him that he needed to find some friends that weren't going to take a shot at him the first time his back was turned and Ressler had certainly proved to be the opposite of the usual types he surrounded himself with. Jacob's back had been turned and Ressler had been there to watch it. The former operative wasn't sure he was used to that, but the thought he'd be okay with it being the new normal.

* * *

 **End**.

Notes: Sorry it took me so long to get this last part edited and up. Life's been a little crazy lately. It was interesting, because SaraBeth1 and I wrote this during the mini hiatus, so before the Solomon episodes. There were pieces I was able to tweak just a little so that they make more sense along with canon, but others (like Liz and Tom's kiddo's name) that had already been up in previous chapters and I kept wanting to change Hope to Agnes lol

Thank so much for your awesome reviews! We had a blast with this premise and pushing the boys to work together. Hopefully we'll see more of that in canon before the season's end.


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